


Hiraeth

by xXdreameaterXx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Compliant, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Redemption, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 98,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24697993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/pseuds/xXdreameaterXx
Summary: There are parts of his past, parts of himself that he would like to cut out. Only when they are removed, Draco Malfoy is sure, he can feel whole again. He had meant to start over, not end up in St. Mungo's psychiatric ward where he realises that the road to redemption is not an easy one, especially not when Dark Magic is still lurking around every corner. In his fight against his own past and new enemies, hope can appear in the strangest shapes and sizes, and sometimes, in the form of an annoyingly persistent healer named Astoria Greengrass.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 89
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, old, faithful readers and welcome to the new ones :) This is my first HP fanfiction in about 10 years and I'm equally excited and nervous about re-entering this fandom after so many years. But after re-reading all of the books and the play just recently, I couldn't hold back and had to write this one. I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> A WORD OF WARNING:  
> This fic contains mentions of self-harm in two chapters, one of which takes place in the first chapter. If you find it distressing, you can skip the chapter and move on to the second. I'll give additional warnings before chapters that might be distressing to you as a reader.
> 
> Actually, a few more words of how this fanfic came to happen at all. I belong to the few fans who actually enjoyed The Cursed Child, but not for the reasons you may think (honestly, I still think that Bellatrix x Voldemort bit was... no). But I LOVED Scorpius a lot and I loved the moments Draco was allowed to speak and express his feelings, whether it be his jealousy of Harry's friendships or his love for Astoria, and I just felt like I needed to know what happened between Deathly Hallows and Cursed Child. I needed to know how Draco and Astoria met, how they fell in love, what kind of person Astoria was to love Draco back and how Scorpius became the child that he is. I thought that there was such a big story left untold and wanted to tell it and I just hope I've done those characters justice.

_Hiraeth - a homesickness for a home you can’t return to, or that never was._

* * *

Draco Malfoy finished his Firewhisky, the gold-brown liquid burning down his throat, making him hiss. Sometimes, he wondered whether he would ever get used to the stinging sensation, the taste, the feeling of the alcohol coursing through his veins. He had never actually enjoyed any of that. Like so often in his life, he drank the revolting liquid because it was what people did, what his father did, not questioning whether the alternative might be preferable. This time, he did question it, but Draco had never been brave and tonight, he was in need of a little courage.

The manor around him was almost eerily quiet, something Draco either cherished or hated, depending on his mood, but ever since the battle, ever since Voldemort’s final defeat, it seemed that their house had been plunged into perpetual silence. He closed his eyes and tried to recall what it had sounded like before, but the truth was that it had never truly been alive, at least not in a pleasant way. Draco almost flinched at the memory of a slammed door, of his father’s shouting, the hushed but agitated voices of visiting Death Eaters, of his aunt’s maniacal laughter and the screams of her victims. If anything, Death had been in his house and its traces still lingered in every corner, in the expensive tapestries on the walls, in the heavy curtains and… in him. Draco decided that he hated the silence tonight.

He pulled down his left sleeve and extended his hand, about to pour himself another glass, when a sudden _plop_ startled him and caused him to withdraw his hand from the bottle. Turning his head, Draco scanned his surroundings for the cause of the noisy interruption and he found that he room was spinning around him until his eyes settled on a child-sized, raggedy house-elf, made even smaller by the curve of his spine that had distorted into a deep bow. The elf’s nose almost touched the floor.

“Dibly apologises to young Master Malfoy for the disturbance,” the elf’s squeaky voice was almost inaudible as she spoke to the floor. When she finally ended her bow and straightened her back, Draco noticed the frightened look on her face.

It sent a wave of disgust through his body and he wasn’t sure whether it was because of the Firewhisky or Dibly’s timid appearance. He had rarely interacted with his parents’ new house-elf at all and yet, she seemed as terrified of him as she was of his father. The idea that he was the cause of sheer terror in a creature he had never even so much as asked for a cup of tea would have pleased him once, now it seemed revolting.

“Then why are you disturbing me?” Draco asked.

His tone was indifferent despite his annoyance and still, Dibly visibly shied away from him before she answered his question. “Young Master Malfoy’s mother asked Dibly to see that he is alright.”

Draco rolled his eyes and almost discarded his resolution to show nothing but indifference towards his family’s servant. For the last couple of weeks, his mother had hovered over him almost constantly with a look of perduring concern on her face, asking whether he was feeling alright, why he never went out to see his friends, whether he would like something to eat, why he always seemed to be retreating. If anything, her worry only caused Draco to pull back further, but he had hoped for a few days of peace when his parents announced that they would be visiting extended family in America. But even with an ocean between them, his mother managed to reach out.

Taking a deep breath, Draco gathered all of his willpower and even managed a faint smile towards the house-elf. “Tell my mother that I’m fine,” he said. It wasn’t true yet, but it would be. “Tell her to enjoy America and bring me something nice.”

Dibly’s wrinkly features lit up just a little before the elf Disapparated with another _plop_.

Draco leaned back, sighing and praying that he had managed to reassure his mother. The last thing he needed right now was for her to show up and ruin the plan he had so carefully made, knowing full well that she would disapprove if she knew. But Narcissa Malfoy wasn’t here and there was no one who could stop him from lifting the bottle of Firewhisky and taking one last sip. It was now or never.

The quiet of the house had ceased to bother him when he placed his arm on the table before him, black sleeves covering his skin up to the wrists. For a moment, Draco tried to remember the last time he had been able to glance at his left forearm without being consumed by rage and disgust and he realised that he hadn’t looked at it at all, always hiding the Mark beneath at least one layer of clothing. At first, it had been an attempt to keep himself safe from others. The sight of the Dark Mark had ceased to scared people after Voldemort’s downfall, instead, it made them angry. More than one reformed Death Eater had been attacked, killed even, and some had probably deserved it. Yet Draco had soon realised that hiding the Mark did not protect him, that his familiar features and white-blonde hair were enough to identify him as a Malfoy, so he had followed his father’s footsteps once again and stopped going out.

Yet none of it, neither the seclusion nor the fabric, had protected him from himself. Draco knew that the Dark Mark was still there. When once it had felt like a ticket to freedom and power, it now felt like a chain that was tying him to a life he was trying to leave behind, tying him to a past he would rather forget, tying him to the memories he wished he could erase from his mind. Ever-present. Inescapable. Draco Malfoy didn’t want to be this person any longer and there was only one way he could think of to move on. He needed to cut it out.

Before he could think better of it, before his own cowardice overpowered him, Draco pulled up his sleeve and reached for the knife, the sharpest knife he had found in the whole house. Closing his eyes and inhaling sharply, he brought it to his skin.

* * *

In and out of consciousness, Draco was aware of only pain. From his left arm, it spread upwards to his shoulder, his chest, coursing through his body in waves that knocked out his senses. Still, he felt like laughing. He had done it. He had beat it. Taken a knife and just cut it out. Draco was free at last.

When another wave of pain had subsided, Draco dared to open his eyes, only to find a strange, blurred sight. He hadn’t remembered the sitting room to be so bright. Was it morning already? Had he neglected to close the curtains? A strange thought occurred to him, hardly noticeable between in delight of victory. What if he wasn’t in the sitting room at all anymore? Madness. He just needed to go back to sleep before the next wave of agony hit, but no matter how long he waited, it wouldn’t come.

Instead, there was a faint, distant voice. Had the house-elf returned and found him? Oh, his mother would be furious. Whatever it was, Draco tried to drown it out and focus on the most important part. He had successfully severed himself from what had made him a Death Eater.

“Can you hear me?” an unfamiliar voice asked. Draco didn’t recognise it, he only knew it wasn’t Dibly.

“We need to act,” another voice said, a male one this time. “He’s losing too much blood. Do the spell.”

Draco forced his eyes open despite the brightness. He had definitely left the comfort of his sitting room and was instead staring at a plain white ceiling. Then, someone bent over him. For a moment, he had assumed that the woman would speak to him now that he was awake, but she seemed to search his face for something other than a sign of consciousness. For a strange reason, she seemed vaguely familiar. Then, Draco watched as she drew out her wand and directed it towards his arm. He recognised the effects of the spell immediately despite his befuddled state and moved to stop her, only to find that something had rendered him immobile.

“No!” he croaked, but the sound got stuck in his throat.

So Draco merely lay there, somewhere in a room at St. Mungo’s, watching helplessly as a healer undid the work that had taken him years to find the courage to accomplish and restored the skin of his arm with a single spell. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw his skin grow back together and patch itself up without as much as a scar, reassembling the Dark Mark in the process. Everything had been in vain.


	2. Chapter 2

St. Mungo’s was a dreary place. Despite feeling confident about her choice of career, Astoria Greengrass couldn’t help but think that the overall look of the hospital didn’t exactly aid in her patients’ recovery.

Fresh out of Hogwarts, her family had had great expectations for Astoria: A pure-blood marriage, a couple of children, a charming manor and a life of being a housewife among them, but she had thwarted every plan they made in favour of her own. Now, two years and endless lessons of extensive training later, she was finally a qualified healer and ready to do some good in a world still wrecked after the war. And on top of everything, fate had sent a former Death Eater to be one of her patients.

Astoria hadn’t immediately recognised Draco Malfoy even though their paths had probably crossed a hundred times back in the Slytherin common room, but there was hardly anything left of the boy she had seen at Hogwarts. Not only had Draco grown to be a man, there was nothing left of the pride and superiority with which he had roamed the school corridors. Hiding behind the doorframe and spying into the St. Mungo’s lounge, Astoria merely saw a shadow of a once lively boy. But being his healer, she had to talk to him either way.

The house-elf had brought Draco Malfoy to St. Mungo’s in the small hours of the morning, five minutes before her shift was due to end. However, upon seeing the blood and the almost lifeless figure of the young, vaguely familiar man, Astoria had decided to stay and patch him up. The spell itself was simple and the wound quite straightforward, but before anyone else, Astoria had grasped the reason for his injury. It was the reason that worried her more than the injury itself, which was exactly why she had gone to look for him the second today’s shift had started. The healing magic had done its work, but Draco Malfoy still looked pale as though he hadn’t seen the sun in months. She also couldn’t quite believe that a nurse had allowed him to leave his bed yet, so he must have sneaked out on his own volition to read a book in the hospital’s lounge. However, as Astoria stepped closer, she noticed that his eyes merely stared blankly at the pages and that he hadn’t moved in quite some time. There was little doubt that he was using the book to hide behind.

“I can’t imagine the nurses gave you permission to leave your bed, Mr Malfoy,” Astoria said once she had reached him.

Astoria had decided to remain formal, unsure of whether her patient would recognise her. When Draco lifted his head and looked at her over his book, a brief flicker of recognition passed over his face. For a moment, she thought that he had remembered her from Hogwarts, but then his features darkened. He seemed angry.

“I’m the healer who patched you up last night,” Astoria explained swiftly before Draco had a chance to jump to the wrong conclusion.

“I know exactly who you are,” he spat and slammed his book shut. Before Astoria knew what was happening, Draco rose to his feet, cast the book aside and tried to leave the lounge, but luckily for her, she was faster than he had expected. She reached out and caught hold of his arm, gripping it so tightly in her attempt to make him stay that he yelped in pain. Astoria had caught the arm she had only just fixed last night, but despite his protests, she didn’t let go.

“I saved your life last night,” she said, the determination resonating in her voice. Still, Astoria was holding on to his arm, her hand right above the Mark that she knew decorated his skin. “A _thank you_ would have been nice, although I’d settle for a little less hostility.”

Draco glared at her and yanked his arm free at last. Astoria figured that it must still hurt because, even though she had restored his skin, it was bound to be tender for a while longer. She watched him tug at the sleeve until it reached his wrist. “Thanks for nothing,” he hissed and then stormed out of the lounge without sparing her another glance.

Astoria scoffed and she felt glad that apart from her, the room was now empty and no one else had witnessed Draco Malfoy’s ungrateful outburst. At least she had caught a glimpse of the old Draco, proud, rude, a proper pure-blood brat. That was the one she had witnessed at school, the one she had thought, upon seeing him again, he had left behind. He hadn’t changed at all.

But then how he had ended up in St. Mungo’s in the first place? Astoria couldn’t be sure, but she thought she had figured it out when she saw his wound. Someone, and she presumed that Draco had done it himself, had attempted to cut out the Dark Mark, tearing away skin and flesh until he had almost grazed the bone. If she hadn’t been entirely mistaken, he had smelled of Firewhisky, too. Even though Draco was long gone and had vanished back into his room, Astoria stared after him, unsure of what she should do next. While she had healed the wound, she suspected that the true cause of his injury was still left untreated and she feared that he might try again - or worse, try something else. She would have to talk to him again.

Her determination sparked once more, Astoria made her way towards Administration and entered the office without knocking. A young wizard, only a few years older than herself, looked up from his paperwork and smiled when he saw her.

“Hello Ms Greengrass,” Montague said brightly. “What can I do for you today?”

Astoria straightened her back and returned the smile. “It’s about one of my patients. Draco Malfoy. He came in last night.”

Montague instantly turned towards a stack of recent papers and started going through them, just flicking pages until he pulled the right one from the stack. “I have him,” he confirmed. “Admitted with a deep wound on his forearm, probably caused by a sharp object, no magic involved, but significant blood loss. Brought in by his house-elf, Dibly.”

“Has his family been notified yet?”

Montague shrugged. “It doesn’t say.”

Astoria had heard a lot about the Malfoy family in her time at Hogwarts and after. She was certain that if they knew about their son’s injuries, they would have been here already, but she didn’t think that Montague should be the one to talk to them. No, it had to be her.

“Good thing you’re here, though,” Montague went on, “cause Mr Malfoy has already asked to be released.”

“Out of the question,” Astoria responded immediately. Even if she had to do it by force, she would keep Draco Malfoy here until they had had a chance to talk. “He can’t leave the hospital, not even on his own volition. I believe he might be a danger to himself.”

To her surprise, Montague chuckled. “Would that really be such a big loss? I mean, he’s an acquitted Death Eater. Everyone knows what he did during the war and that he got away with it.”

In response, Astoria glowered at him. “I am a healer,” she growled. “I will do what I must to save a patient, even a Death Eater who, as you so kindly pointed out, was acquitted.”

In a swift movement, he drew out her wand and waved it across the sheet of paper, placing the proximity spell on him that would prevent him from leaving. Draco Malfoy would remain in this hospital until she said otherwise.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco was feeling better. Well, not _better_ , but his hands had stopped shaking and his body seemed to have recovered from the loss of blood. Tugging his sleeve down to his wrist, he inhaled once more and then made his way out of the hospital room, determined to walk out of St. Mungo’s this very instant. They couldn’t keep him here against his will and he had to get back to the manor before his parents returned from America. Slipping in and out of consciousness, Draco had had the sense to order the house-elf not to tell his parents about anything and the fact that they hadn’t shown up at the hospital meant that Dibly had kept her word.

Now, as he was striding towards the exit, it was time to work on a new plan. He had failed to get rid of the Mark on his first attempt, but Draco didn’t blame himself. Instead, his rage was directed towards that stupid house-elf who had found him and the infuriating healer who had thought she was doing him a favour by mending his skin, thus restoring the Dark Mark he had tried to erase. Involuntarily, Draco tugged at his sleeve again and passed through the front door, only to receive a convulsing blow against his chest.

For a moment, Draco didn’t even understand what was happening, didn’t realise that the force of the spell hurtled him backwards and thew him straight across the room until his body slammed into a wall. That was when the pain set in. Groaning and rubbing the back of his head, he rose back to his feet.

“What in Merlin’s name?!” Draco muttered to himself as he examined the hospital exit. Just as he considered the theory that some kind of spell was blocking it, a couple of wizards walked out, unscathed, and a nurse came rushing in. If they could come and go, why couldn’t he?

“Mr Malfoy?”

He turned on the spot and noticed a wizard in white robes, obviously hospital staff, beckoning towards him. The expression on his face seemed friendly at first glance, but there was a hint of annoyance underneath that didn’t exactly provoke a patient attitude in Draco.

“Why can’t I leave this damn place?!” he demanded to know. “I was just about to walk out and your spell almost killed me!”

“Your healer will explain,” the wizard replied and the irritation was audible in his voice. “Please, follow me.”

Seeing that he hardly had a choice, Draco brushed the dust off his trousers, tugged his sleeve into place and followed the wizard along the corridors. He wasn’t sure where he was being led or what healer he was going to talk to, but he was sure to find out any second when the other wizard stopped, knocked on an office door and opened it.

Inside sat the same woman who had, as she had pointed out, saved his life and for a moment, Draco was tempted to turn on his heels and demand to see a different healer, but was stopped as the door closed behind him. He was now alone with the woman who had ruined everything.

The healer looked up from the large volume on her desk and smiled at him. It wasn’t a bright smile, nothing that indicated she was happy to see him, instead, it seemed to be a gesture of simple politeness. For the first time, Draco took a moment to actually look at her. Her dark curls were tied back in a professional manner, drawing the focus to an undeniably pleasant face. Draco might have called her beautiful with her dark, inquisitive eyes and olive skin, but whenever he looked at her, he recalled seeing her face at the same moment she had restored his Mark. Still, there was something familiar about her that reached beyond what he had seen of her at the hospital. Yet Draco couldn’t remember where their paths had crossed before, nor could he recall her name.

“Please, have a seat,” the healer gestured towards an empty chair across the table from her and he took it reluctantly.

A part of him was still determined to leave or, at the very least, demand to see a different healer who hadn’t ruined his best chance of erasing the Dark Mark from his skin, but judging by the look on her face, his chances of that were slim. Draco sat down in the uncomfortable chair and pulled at his sleeve once more. The gesture drew her eyes towards his arm and he stopped immediately.

“Why can’t I leave the hospital?” Draco demanded to know before she had a chance of opening the conversation. Then, his eyes fell on the name tag attached to her robes.

_A. Greengrass_  
_Healer_

Where had he heard that name before?

“I took the liberty of placing a proximity charm on you,” Ms Greengrass explained. There was something in her voice that Draco couldn’t quite place, but he had no time to think about it any further or express his outrage at the spell. “I didn’t want you to leave before we had a chance to talk.”

“You can’t keep me here against my will!” he retorted angrily. His hand wandered back towards his sleeve and he stopped himself at the last moment. For some reason, he didn’t want the healer to see.

Ms Greengrass sighed. “You’re half right,” she admitted calmly. “You’re going to be released today, but before that happens, I want to talk. No anger. No shouting. Just two adults having a conversation. Can you do that, Mr Malfoy, or are you incapable of acting like the mature wizard you are?”

 _How dare you?!_ was the first thing that popped into Draco’s head and he was prepared to shout it at her until he thought better of it. That was what the old Draco would have done, the person he no longer wanted to be. It would have proven her right. Instead, he merely nodded, no matter how hard it was to remain silent.

As he waited for Ms Greengrass to continue talking, his hand started to twitch and he balled it into a fist to refrain from touching his arm.

“I want you to understand how close you came last night. You had lost a lot of blood when your house-elf brought you in and you would have died if she had found you only an hour later,” she explained quietly. Her voice wasn’t cold, but professional, like she had this conversation all of the time. “I need to know whether it was your intention to die and I need you to be honest with me.”

Her dark eyes stared at him and suddenly, Draco found it almost impossible to meet them. Instead, he lowered his gaze and gave in to the urge of tugging at his sleeve once more.

“I didn’t try to kill myself,” he spat, still not looking at her. “I didn’t want to die, I just-”

“You were just trying to cut out the Dark Mark,” Ms Greengrass finished his sentence.

At last, Draco found the strength to look up and he met her gaze defiantly. “So what?”

If she already knew, if she had seen through him and his motives, why was she asking at all?

“It’s not as simple as taking a knife and just cutting it out, Mr Malfoy,” she explained and some of the anger had returned to her voice. “And I need you to promise me that you won’t try again because I can tell that’s what you want to do. You keep fiddling with your sleeve, pulling it down so that no one will catch a glimpse. If you try again, the next attempt might kill you and I cannot in good conscience allow a patient to walk out of here if I believe he’s going to hurt himself again.”

“You don’t understand,” Draco tried to argue. Ms Greengrass obviously wasn’t a Death Eater, never had been, so she couldn’t fathom what it was like to wear the reminder of all his darkest deeds on his own skin. All of his worst memories, forever etched into his arm.

The healer sighed. “You’re right, I don’t understand what motivated you to hurt yourself like that. I’d like to try, but there is something _you_ don’t seem to understand.” She leaned forward and stared directly at him. “I’ve done some research into the matter and the Dark Mark is more than just a tattoo. It’s a spell. You can’t remove it simply by removing the skin, you can’t alter it, you can’t Vanish it. Others have tried and failed before you because the Mark is a part of you, it’s entangled with your soul.”

Draco stared blankly back at her. “I don’t believe you. There has to be a solution.”

He watched as Ms Greengrass took a deep breath. “You’re right. There are two ways. One is a spell-”

“Give it to me!” Draco blurted out without meaning to. He knew that he sounded desperate, but he would do just about anything to sever himself from the Mark. If he had gone so far as to cut it out of his skin, if he had almost died for it, he couldn’t stop there.

“I don’t have it,” the healer replied with an apologetic smile. “And I don’t recommend that you look for it, because no one has ever managed to cast it successfully. The process of severing your soul from the Mark is painful, infinitely more painful than the Cruciatus Curse, and there are a lot of things that could go wrong and might permanently damage you mind, body and soul. Even if I wasn’t a healer and in charge of your wellbeing, I would implore you not do try it.”

“Well, what’s the other option, then?” he wanted to know. “You said there were two ways.”

Ms Greengrass paused and something about the look on her face told him that he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“You learn to live with it,” she said eventually. “Outgrow it. Rise above it.

Draco scoffed and something about his reaction seemed to have told her that their conversation had come to an end, because she swiftly continued.

“By the way, I took the liberty of informing your parents. Once they arrive to pick you up, I will lift the proximity spell and you’re free to go home. Good day, Mr Malfoy. And remember that you promised me not to try again.”

He didn’t even have time to express his outrage when Ms Greengrass rose to her feet and Disapparated. Instead, he Draco stood there with his mouth open, wondering how it had happened that she got to have the last word.

“I didn’t promise you anything,” he muttered under his breath and turned to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco left the office with his head bowed and refused the urge to pull down his sleeve, refused to indulge in the habit that had given his intentions away to Ms Greengrass, no matter how tempting it was. Even though he had failed to remove the Mark, his little trip to the hospital hadn’t been entirely in vain. Now he knew that there _was_ a way, however dangerous, to get rid of the Dark Mark. He just had to find it.

A twinge of guilty conscience tugged at his heart when he remembered how she had made him promise not to try again. He hadn’t, but for some unfathomable reason, it felt like he had.

“Draco!” a woman’s voice called his name across the corridor and as soon as he had lifted his head, he felt his mother’s arms wrap around him in a tight embrace. “Thank Merlin you’re alright! Your father and I have been so worried!”

Carefully, Draco untangled himself from his mother’s embrace, blushing a little at the unwanted public display of emotions, and granted her a weak smile. “I’m fine,” he told her. “Everything’s fine.”

“I know, Ms Greengrass told us everything. You were so lucky she patched you up and lucky that Dibly found you. If she hadn’t-” his mother broke off, stifling a little sob before turning her head towards his father. Lucius Malfoy stood just out of reach, observing the emotional scene with an air of indifference. Or anger. Draco wasn’t sure. “I know we shouldn’t have gone to America. I told you we shouldn’t have left him alone.”

“Mother, it’s fine,” Draco tried to reassure her. “It was an accident. It won’t happen again.”

 _Because next time, I’m not going to be dumb enough to use a knife. Next time, I will use the correct spell_ , he added in his head.

Despite his earlier withdrawal, his mother placed an arm around his shoulder. “Well, we can talk about it at home. I’m sure you’re eager to leave here.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Draco responded and turned to look down the corridor one last time, but there was no sign of Ms Greengrass. It was for the best because if he never saw her again, he wouldn’t have to lie about the promise he hadn’t actually made.

* * *

If Draco had assumed his mother had been watching over him before his little accident, he had assumed wrong. It was nothing compared to the amount of time she insisted on spending in his presence, always making sure that he wasn’t left unsupervised as if he was a five-year-old who couldn’t be trusted with a pair of scissors. Her eyes never seemed to leave him at the dinner table, making sure he forced down every bite. In the library, she always appeared next to him, looking over his shoulder, asking if he was reading anything interesting. When Draco retreated to his room, he waited for the knock that was sure to come before his mother stuck her head through the crack, asking if he would like a Chocolate Frog. _I’m not eleven, mother!_ , he wanted to say, but Draco bit down on his lips and swallowed the words, however hard it was, because he needed her to trust him. Every once in a while her gaze would linger a little longer and that was how Draco knew she was going to ask the dreaded question once more.

“Do you want to talk about… what happened?” her quiet, careful voice asked.

Draco merely shook his head. “It was an accident. There’s nothing else to say,” he said and buried his nose in another book, pretending to read.

It had taken him a week until Draco felt confident enough to try, but once all the lights in the house had gone out and he was sure to hear his father’s snoring, Draco got out of bed, lit his wand and carefully made his way into the other wing of the house where his father kept his personal, private library. When Draco was still a boy, a difficult spell had locked the doors to keep out the child too curious for his own good and protect him from the Dark Magic that was hidden behind the heavy oak doors. Then, after his father’s imprisonment, the library had remained open for him. Only once the Dark Mark actually graced his skin, Draco had no longer felt drawn to the mysteries of this secret room.

Night after night, Draco sneaked into the library and remained there until the small hours of the morning, days turning into weeks, and he had still only gone through a fraction of his father’s secret collection. Just how he had managed to hide them from the Ministry raids, Draco couldn’t tell, but he was simultaneously glad and annoyed that his father had managed to accumulate so many volumes about the Dark Arts. Yet none of them seemed to hold the secret spell with which he might rid himself of the Dark Mark.

A sudden _pop_ jolted him awake when Draco hadn’t even realised he had fallen asleep in the first place and his first reaction was to reach for his wand and point it at the intruder. Dibly shied away from him.

“Oh,” Draco uttered and swiftly lowered his wand again, “it’s you.”

Dibly’s ugly face distorted into something not unlike an apologetic smile as she placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him. “Dibly is sorry about the intrusion, young Master Malfoy. Dibly came in to clean and found him asleep, didn’t mean to startle the young Master.”

His heart was still racing from the lack of sleep and rude awakening and maybe it was his general state of exhaustion, but Draco felt too tired to shout at the house-elf. Instead, he lifted the cup of tea with a grateful nod towards Dibly.

“Don’t let my parents know I’ve been in here,” he said once he had taken a sip. The tea was good.

Dibly bowed. “Whatever young Master Malfoy requires,” she replied politely. “It’s just that Mistress has been very worried.”

Draco’s faced lined in a frown. “She sent you to spy on me?!” he asked, incredulous.

“No!” Dibly blurted out instantly. “But Dibly overheard her say it, so she thought some tea might help.”

Regarding his parents’ servant closely and having another sip of tea, Draco decided that he had no reason to dislike the elf. Maybe Dibly was quite alright after all. But then, something else came to his mind.

“Whatever I require?” Draco asked just to be sure. “I mean, I could ask for your help and you’d do it? Without telling my parents?”

Once more, the house-elf bowed and Draco took that as a yes. When the elf came back up, he decided to just come out and ask.

“I’m looking for a spell and I assume it’s got something to do with very Dark Magic. It’s meant to remove the Dark Mark from my arm. Have you heard of such a thing?”

All of a sudden, Dibly’s eyes widened and her face took on a frightened expression.

“You have, haven’t you?!” Draco demanded to know.

When she spoke, the elf’s voice was small, almost inaudible. “Dibly heard rumours, sir,” she replied carefully, “from another house-elf. But… that kind of magic is very dangerous.”

“Can you find out more?” he asked, trying to conceal the excitement in his voice. Finally, after many long, sleep-deprived weeks, he had found a clue.

“Dibly can try,” the elf said.

“Please do.” Draco almost sighed in relief. One step closer. “Oh, and don’t tell my parents. About any of that.”

The elf looked utterly uncomfortable, but she still nodded in agreement. Now, it was only a matter of time before Draco could put his plan into action.


	5. Chapter 5

As Draco walked down the stairs to join his family for breakfast, it felt as if he was carrying the weight of the past couple of weeks on his shoulders. His bones were heavy, his head foggy with the lack of sleep, but still, there was a subtle feeling of alleviation as he remembered his conversation with Dibly. Maybe, the elf would find something, at least another clue because his father’s library didn’t seem to know anything about the spell he needed to erase the Mark. Inhaling deeply, Draco made sure that his sleeve was in place and stepped into the kitchen.  
To his surprise, he spotted his mother at the oven and for a moment, he thought it was a strange hallucination that his sleep-deprived mind had conjured up. She didn’t seem to notice him at first when she flipped something over in the pan, using her wand, of course, and added another pinch of salt to the mix. Whatever she was doing it, it smelled delicious.

“Mother?” Draco asked, still a little dumbfounded. The last time he had actually seen her cook, he was still a child and ill with some weird form of the pox.

His mother turned around and smiled happily. “Oh, you’re up. Breakfast is almost finished.”

Glancing from his mother’s cheerful face to the pan and back, Draco still couldn’t rule out that he was imagining things. “Why are you cooking? Why isn’t Dibly making breakfast?”

She shrugged, still smiling. “I just felt like it,” she replied. It was then that her smile shifted a little and Draco noticed the underlying expression of concern. “I just wanted to do something nice for the family. I made your favourite.”

So it wasn’t just on a whim that Narcissa Malfoy had decided to prepare a meal herself, it was because she still worried about him. Not that he could blame her because, as Draco had looked into the mirror this morning, he had noticed himself resemble a ghost rather than a human being. He was paler than usual and dark circles had formed under his eyes during the last couple of weeks, but all of that would be over soon. Once the Dark Mark was no longer weighing him down, he could go back to live a normal life. But until then, he needed his mother to stop worrying or else she might interfere with his plan.

“I’ll set the table,” Draco offered and pulled out his wand. He directed it at the cupboard, intent on opening it to release three plates, but for some reason, the wooden cupboard doors merely wiggled and remained shut.

Frowning, Draco tried again, waving his wand a little more enthusiastically, but nothing happened except for a small jiggle. Again and again, he tried, uttering the words even though he had always excelled at nonverbal spells, but to no avail. The cupboard doors stayed firmly in place.

“Draco?” his mother’s voice asked carefully as he went to examine his wand. To his surprise, it seemed in perfect shape. There wasn’t even a scratch on it. Could it be broken from the inside?  
“Is everything alright?”

Not taking his eyes off the treacherous wand, Draco nodded almost automatically. “Something must be wrong with my wand,” he replied as a bad feeling started to creep up inside of him.

“Oh well,” his mother said in an attempt to sound cheerful, yet she wasn’t entirely convincing, “you can use mine. I’m almost done.”

For a brief second, Draco was tempted to accept just to see what would happen, but as the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach grew, he found himself shaking his head. What if the problem wasn’t the wand? What if it was him that was broken and not the conduit through which he was trying to direct his magic?

“It’s fine,” Draco said roughly and went to fetch the plates by hand. If he accepted his mother’s wand and it proved that the problem was him, then she was going to worry for real.

His father was nowhere to be seen and Draco was glad when he entered the dining room and found it empty, so he continued to set the table in silence while, inside of him, a storm was raging. He had always excelled at magic. Even before he had gone to Hogwarts, he had been in control of his powers, levitating toys around his room and summoning whatever it was he required. Then, at school, his grades had made his mother proud even though his father had never missed the opportunity to remind him that _that Mudblood_ still beat him in every test. Second best had never been good enough for Lucius Malfoy, but it was still pretty damn excellent. Even when it came to the Dark Arts, even when he had had to resort to using his mother’s wand, magic had come easy to him. So why was it failing him now?

Again, Draco drew out his wand and uttered the word _Lumos_ under his breath. The tip flickered briefly and then light up, but the light wasn’t nearly as bright as it should have been, so he extinguished it with a small flick of his wand.

Dibly’s sudden appearance, accompanied by the usual _plop_ tore him out of his brooding thoughts and he looked up to see that the elf had materialised right next to him with a look of agitation on her face.

“Dibly found it! It’s in Knockturn Alley!” the house-elf announced proudly.

“Shush!” Draco hushed him quickly, placing his index finger across his lips. “My mother can’t know. Come to my room after breakfast and tell me everything, okay?”

Dibly nodded and Disapparated again just in time before his mother stepped through the door. “Of course your father isn’t here yet even though I specifically told him we’ll have breakfast at 9.” She stopped when she looked at Draco and the rush of excitement must have been visible on his face. “Is everything alright?”

Draco nodded. “I just decided that I’m going to Diagon Alley after breakfast,” he announced. “To get my wand checked out.”

It was painfully obvious that Narcissa Malfoy hated the idea of letting her son leave alone, but since he had behaved perfectly in the past few weeks, she clearly couldn’t find a good enough reason to forbid her adult son from leaving.

“Alright,” she agreed eventually.

* * *

Knockturn Alley was a place Draco had never imagined himself return to, not when he had turned his back on the Dark Arts after the war. Even reading about those spells in his father’s library, hoping to find a way to rid himself of the Mark, he had felt waves of disgust wash through him as he pictured his former self using any one of them. As a stupid child, he had dreamed of doing magic just like that, but that was before he had received a taste of what it was really like. Now, the the only Dark spell he was ever going to perform was the one that removed the tattoo from his arm, the one that itched under the long sleeve until he tugged at it again. It had become a nasty habit and the only reassurance he had was that the habit, too, would soon be gone.

While he made his way down the street, Draco noticed that he wasn’t the only one who had changed because Knockturn Alley was hardly recognisable anymore. Most of the shops had closed now, though not exactly of their own volition. After Voldemort’s downfall, the Ministry had arrested half of the shop owners and raided the rest until they had nothing left to sell. It seemed like a miracle that Borgin & Burkes still remained amidst the barred windows and sealed doors of the deserted street.

The little bell above the door rung as Draco stepped inside and he couldn’t help but notice instantly that the shop had seen better days. The fully stocked shelves and paths blocked by various odds and ends had drawn his curiosity as a child, but all that was left now was what the shop had claimed to sell from the very beginning: antiquities. Draco glanced around, briefly wondering whether Dibly had sent him down the wrong path, when he heard Mr Borgin clear his throat.

“Well, look at that. Young Mr Malfoy,” the shopkeeper said in a voice that betrayed his amusement. “Last I’ve heard was that your family was _reformed_ now. What changed?”

 _Nothing_ , that was what Draco wanted to reply. In fact, he wanted to get out of here, so he did exactly as Dibly had instructed.

As it turned out, Dark Magic was far from defeated and the news of that neither shocked nor surprised Draco very much. Centuries of accumulated knowledge like he had found in his father’s private library didn’t disappear overnight, people didn’t forget about it overnight, they merely stopped practising it out in the open. Voldemort’s downfall and the imminent Ministry crackdown hadn’t eradicated the Dark Arts. If anything, it had driven those who still practised it back into the shadows where they had lurked before Voldemort rose to power. Only they had become immensely more careful now, never meeting in the same place twice, guarding their secrets closely with the help of those who could be trusted. Mr Burgin was one of those trustworthy people and, thanks to Dibly, Draco had arrived with the key that would gain him access to those who knew the very spell he needed.

“Baneberry Potion,” Draco said simply, giving the old man the most recent password required to enter the inner circle of those who still practised the forbidden magic.

Mr Borgin looked surprised, but once he had composed himself, he merely shrugged and reached under the table. Draco wasn’t sure what would happen next because Dibly had never managed to find out, but he knew that he had expected a little more. The old man pulled out a single, simple Galleon and shoved it across the table for Draco to take. He didn’t.

“It’s not cursed, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Mr Borgin said.

Finally, Draco extended his hand and examined the coin, but he couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary and he didn’t know how it was going to help him find the secret meeting place. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that? If there’s one thing my family has enough of, it’s gold,” he spat, his voice showing his impatience. For a moment, he felt the intense urge to tug at his sleeve, brought on by the voice of the _old_ Draco, the one he was trying to leave behind. Then he remembered that he was the person Mr Borgin was probably expecting to talk to.

The old man chuckled in response. “We stole that trick from the resistance-” he broke off, “well, before they won. Guess we’re the resistance now.”

The sneer on Mr Borgin’s face was so disgusting that Draco felt the urge to punch him. He wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

“Keep it close,” the old man advised him. “Once they set a time and place for their next meeting, the coin will heat up and reveal where you can find them. Can you believe that a _Mudblood_ originally came up with that?”

“I can, actually,” Draco replied absent-mindedly, still turning the coin over in his hands. He was quite familiar with the spell, having cast it himself once before, a very long time ago, but Draco didn’t feel like sharing that information with Mr Borgin.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco had vowed to get some rest, convinced that his problem with magic stemmed from sheer exhaustion, but as he lay in bed, clutching the coin in his right hand, he felt restless. Trying to sleep and yet, at the same time, trying to focus on his surroundings, he tossed and turned in the sheets until his fingers cramped around the Galleon. What if he fell asleep and missed the moment he had been waiting for these past couple of weeks? What if he didn’t notice it heat up and he would be forced to wait until another meeting? He couldn’t wait any longer. Yet as the hours ticked by, Draco could no longer resist the pull and drifted off into dark, dream-laden sleep.

When the sun shone lazily through the curtains and his clouded mind could no longer remain in the realm of unconsciousness, Draco, always waking up feeling worse than he had the night before, began to wonder if maybe his body had forgotten how to sleep properly. A glance at the Galleon in his hand eased his mind a little. The coin hadn’t changed. He hadn’t missed his chance.

Despite the fogginess surrounding his brain, Draco found it impossible to go back to sleep and his restlessness only increased when he started to hear people talking animatedly outside of his bedroom, somewhere in the manor’s corridors. Something wasn’t quite right. His mother and father rarely talked these days. Ever since the beginning of the war, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had only ever talked in hushed voices behind closed doors and they had kept the habit until now. Sometimes, Draco even thought they never spoke to each other at all anymore. Yet there were definitely two female voices talking outside of his bedroom doors, their voices fleeting down the long corridors.

Since the only way to satisfy his curiosity about the strange visitor was to get out of bed, Draco lifted his heavy body off the mattress and reached for the wand on his bedside table. He flicked it, intending to let magic take care of his morning routine, yet while his breath felt fresh and his hair sorted itself into a neatly combed arrangement, he realised soon that the clothes on his body hadn’t changed and he was still wearing his pyjamas. He supposed that it was better than nothing, better than not being able to do any magic at all, and walked over to his closet to change into something more suitable for receiving early visitors. A pair of plain trousers, a black jumper and another disdainful glance at his left arm later, Draco left his bedroom to see what was going on inside Malfoy Manor.

Venturing through the long and empty corridors, Draco pulled down the sleeves of his jumper and followed the voices towards the sitting room. There was another woman present besides his mother and for some strange reason, her voice sounded vaguely familiar to him. Yet Draco couldn’t quite place where he had heard it before. The mystery was lifted at last when he stepped into the sitting room and before the woman had even turned around in her chair, Draco recognised the dark curls of Astoria Greengrass.  
His mother looked up. “Good morning, Draco,” she said amicably, causing the healer to turn her head as well.

Draco’s sleep-deprived mind was flooded with a strange mix of emotions. The first was a wave of intense dislike, annoyance that this woman had the audacity to seek him out at home and the realisation that the sitting room’s warm light seemed to suit her face a lot better than the harsh, bright light of St. Mungo's. Ms Greengrass had discarded her white robes and instead wore a casual, forest green dress that led Draco to believe she was here on a social call instead of attending to business matters. Yet the sight of her in those colours suddenly woke a memory that had been buried in his mind, the memory of Astoria Greengrass, younger, smaller, wearing the green Slytherin robes around the common room. Their paths had already crossed once before.

“Good morning, Mr Malfoy,” Ms Greengrass greeted him cheerfully.

Draco’s face turned into a frown, yet before he could ask the question and demand to know what she was doing in his home, his mother rose from her seat.

“Ms Greengrass kindly stopped by for a house call to see if everything is going well with your recovery. Isn’t that kind of her?” his mother said, still smiling. Somehow, Draco had the impression that the idea hadn’t originated with the healer. No, his mother had asked her to come. “Well, I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Draco watched his mother walk past, still dumbfounded by her incessant meddling, but he realised that there was nothing he could do about that now. Astoria Greengrass was here and he would have to talk to her. He slipped the Galleon he hadn’t even realised he was still clutching into his pocket, tugged his left sleeve into place and sat down in the chair his mother had previously occupied, glaring at the healer. Ms Greengrass, however, remained smiling at him. It was obvious that she was deliberately waiting for him to start the conversation and Draco briefly considered being rude to get rid of her. Yet somehow, he felt that it might only achieve the opposite when it came to the stubborn healer.

“You went to Hogwarts,” he said, keeping his voice cool and distant.

The smile on her face widened. “You remember. I didn’t think you did.”

“Just vaguely.”

A silence spread across the sitting room and Draco found himself uncomfortably shifting in his seat when she didn’t reply. Instead, Astoria Greengrass merely kept staring at him, boring her dark, inquisitive eyes right into the depths of his soul. It left him feeling strangely transparent and vulnerable, a feeling Draco was beginning to loathe.

“Why did you come here, Ms Greengrass?” he demanded to know.

Still, she smiled. “Well, since we went to school together, I think you can call me Astoria,” she replied, still too friendly for the hostile glance he was throwing back at her. “And your mother asked me to come. She’s worried that your recovery isn’t going as well as we had thought.”

Draco swallowed hard at the realisation that his mother obviously hadn’t bought his story about the malfunctioning wand. He could see it in Astoria’s eyes that she suspected the problem.

“May I have a look?” she asked, nodding unmistakably towards his left arm.

As if by instinct, he reached for the spot that had been branded with the Mark and pulled his sleeve over his wrist, regretting the gesture as soon as he had done it. He hated looking at the Dark Mark, but what he hated even more was other people seeing it, especially people like Astoria Greengrass. A woman like her would never be able to understand what had happened during the war, she couldn’t even fathom his motives, so all that was left to do for her was to judge him for what she suspected he had done. Draco inhaled deeply and gathered all of his courage before he reached out and pulled up his sleeve, baring the Mark in front of her. It felt worse than stripping naked.

To his surprise, Astoria rose to her feet and approached him, kneeling down beside his chair to have a proper look at the former wound. Even though her grip around his arm was gentle, even though her touch was soft, the contact of her skin on his stung a little and made him flinch. Draco almost pulled his hand back by reflex, but he willed himself to let the examination go on.

“The wound has healed very nicely,” Astoria remarked. “There’s no scarring. Say what you will about me, but I do know what I’m doing as a healer.”

Draco had wondered how a woman like Astoria, a person who seemed to wear her kindness like a permanent glamour charm, had ended up being sorted into Slytherin. At first, he had thought that it was her persistence, her determination, but now that he spotted that pride in her smile, Draco knew.

“Well, since I’m fine, you can leave,” he said and he had meant it to come out harshly, but for some reason, the hostility had left his voice.

Astoria removed her hand from his arm and looked straight at him. The smile had gone. “Your mother said you’re experiencing problems with your casting.”

“It’s a faulty wand,” Draco spat. He rose from his seat and pulled his sleeve back down, signalling the end of their conversation, but he should have known better than to underestimate Astoria.

In a swift movement, she rose to her feet, too, reached into her pocket and held out her own wand to him. “Try this one, then,” she said. “Summon something for me.”

The gravity of her gesture hit him harder than the request to perform a spell and Draco stared at the wand in her hand, his mouth agape. A wand was a witch’s or wizard’s dearest possession, receiving it a rite of passage for the young, a symbol of their status as a magical being. The wand was the one thing no witch or wizard would ever willingly part with. To be without a wand meant to be vulnerable, to take one meant victory for the taker, defeat for the loser, but to offer a wand willingly was a sign of the deepest, purest form of trust. Draco had never trusted anyone else with his wand and he doubted that he ever would. Yet Astoria stood in front of him, holding out her wand for him to take, and he knew that he could never, ever accept. Not because taking her wand meant exposing his weakness, but because he wasn’t deserving of hers or anyone’s trust.

“I don’t have time for this,” he barked in response. “Just leave me and my family alone.”

Without granting Astoria another glance, Draco stormed past her and out of the sitting room, slamming the door behind him. He felt the anger bubble inside his chest as he half-ran down the corridors, not minding where he was going and merely trying to get as far away from Astoria Greengrass as possible.

Yet as he ran, something inside his pocket suddenly ached and he realised that whatever it was, it was heating up to an uncomfortable temperature. Draco reached inside his pocket and hissed as he pulled out the Galleon, but once his fingers closed around the coin, it cooled back down. His heart leapt inside his chest when the simple gold coin he had received from Borgin and Burkes was no longer simple. Instead, it displayed a set of coordinates and a time stamp. Tonight at midnight, his dream of a normal life would finally come true.


	7. Chapter 7

The sensation of Apparating had never really agreed with Draco’s stomach but whereas he still had some form of control of his own magic, being Apparated by an elf cause a whole other level of discomfort and nausea. Not knowing when exactly it was going to happen, Draco felt a sudden pull, the world around him began to spin and his body was being dragged across the country. The second he spent in limbo between one place and the next felt like an eternity while the force tugged at his skin before it finally settled and he felt solid ground under his feet once more. Next to him, Dibly was still holding his hand. Draco had tried, but he still couldn’t muster the energy to cast a more complex spell.

“Thanks, Dibly,” Draco said to the house-elf, who had suddenly become his close companion. Unable to do magic, he depended on the servant more than ever. And more than ever, Draco appreciated Dibly for everything she was doing for him and his family.

The house-elf looked up at him out of her large, pleading eyes. “Maybe Master Malfoy should reconsider. It’s very dangerous, sir.”

Draco ignored Dibly’s warning and took a first look at his surroundings. Even though it was close to midnight, a modest crescent moon illuminated the landscape around him and a whiff of salt, carried by the wind, was blasted into his face from the nearby sea. The area seemed mostly untouched safe for a single, lonely lighthouse at the edge of the coast.

“The meeting is in there,” Draco said out loud even though he spoke more to himself than his helpful companion.

“Yes, but Master Malfoy shouldn’t go in,” Dibly half-whispered and attempted to reach for his hand again. Draco pulled it back. “Dibly should bring them back home. Master is in no state to pick a fight with Dark Wizards.”

Draco turned to glower at the elf even though he wasn’t sure his expression was visible in the low light. “I didn’t come to pick a fight, Dibly. They have something I need. I’m going in and I’m going to ask nicely. And if they really are Dark Wizards like you said, they wouldn’t harm a Malfoy. They’d be stupid to.”

The elf didn’t seem entirely convinced. “Dibly is terribly sorry, sir, but-” she broke off, biting down on her lip. Her tie to the family prevented her from finishing the sentence.

“Say it,” Draco ordered her. “I won’t hurt you. Just get out with it.”

Looking deeply uncomfortable, the house-elf carried on. “The Malfoy name does not carry as much weight as it used to, sir.”

Draco snorted in response. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Please, Master needs to be very careful,” the elf pleaded.

With a sigh, Draco nodded. “Just stay here and wait for me.”

As he approached the lighthouse, Draco tried his best to ignore the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach and once again, his hand wandered to the sleeve on his left arm to pull it down. It was a silly gesture, especially if he was going to meet other Death Eaters, yet it still felt oddly calming. Dark Magic had made him feel uncomfortable ever since he had seen with his own eyes just what it could do. The first time Aunt Bellatrix had tortured someone in front of her, the first time she had made _him_ torture someone, the blood, the screams, all the dark deeds he had seen happen in his own home, everything he had been forced to do, the light leaving Dumbledore’s eyes the very second he had been hit by the killing curse. Draco wanted nothing more than to leave it all behind and it seemed a cruel twist of fate that the only way to escape this darkness led straight through the lion’s den, the place where the same kind of magic he was trying to escape was still being practised.

Drawing closer, Draco couldn’t help but notice that the lonely lighthouse wasn’t as deserted as he had originally thought. No lights and sound penetrated the area from the inside, but a broad-shouldered man was lurking by the entrance and he stepped into Draco’s path the moment he made an attempt to enter.

“Coin,” the large man growled in a threatening manner. Any passing Muggle who came across the lighthouse by accident would assume it was an attempted robbery and, judging by the size and muscle mass, the man would probably be handed all the valuables.

Draco, however, knew exactly what was asked of him and he reached into the pocket and pulled out the fake Galleon. The man stepped aside in a heartbeat and Draco inhaled deeply, only now realising he had been holding his breath the entire time.

“The gathering’s in the basement,” the large man drawled behind him, but Draco had long walked past.

Under his weight, the stairs of the lighthouse creaked and groaned and he could only imagine that no human had actually set foot here in a very long time before a group of wizards had decided to use the building for their dark purpose. It certainly no longer guided any ships, the lights at the top dead and dark. The inside had seemingly been changed, as well, as Draco didn’t think the lighthouse had had a basement to begin with, but when he stepped inside, the entrance room was empty save for a strangely unbefitting staircase that looked oddly out of place inside the building. Draco reached for the wooden bannister and made his descent, feeling as though he was stepping into a place entirely separate from the shabby lighthouse.  
Nothing could have prepared him for what he encountered in the basement and even if Dibly or Mr Borgin had warned him, Draco wouldn’t have believed them anyway. He had started in an empty, ramshackle room and walked out into a lavish corridor. His steps were inaudible on the black carpet and instinctively, as if to make sure it wasn’t an illusion, Draco reached out to touch the green, velvet-lined walls that were softly illuminated by floating candles. It felt like real velvet, but he still thought that maybe, his mind was playing tricks on him. Soft notes were playing in a distant room at the end of the corridor, a melody so enticing, seductive and sinister that it was becoming increasingly hard to resist letting his steps fall in with the rhythm. The place was pure magic. It felt like Hogwarts and yet it didn’t feel like Hogwarts at all at the same time. Something a lot darker was happening in this strange place and even if he changed his mind and decided to turn around, something else would have pulled him along towards the music.

Draco wasn’t alone either. Walking on, he noticed shadows in his path and once he came closer, the shapes turned into a couple of wizards, sharing a rather intimate moment in each other’s embrace, leaning against the wall, their hands moving over each other’s bodies to the rhythm of the distant music. Draco turned his head and walked on until the music became clearer, the lights grew darker and a door right in front of him burst open.

Even though the music was clouding his senses, inviting him to cast aside his own goals and join the celebrating, Draco willed himself to focus and glanced warily around the room as he stepped inside. It was clear the creator had been inspired by the Slytherin common room, only the light was softer, the air warmer and there were more, many more people than Draco had assumed there would. Some stood at the side, talking, drinking, ignoring the spell the music was trying to put them under. He spotted others dancing closely, swaying hips and pressing their half-naked bodies against each other. Here and there he noticed a couple just like the one he had met outside, entwined in an intimate kiss. Draco didn’t know what to make of any of it.  
Then, as if the spell had compelled him to, he turned his head and spotted her. Sitting on a high chair not unlike a throne, the woman had an aura of power around her like unlike anything Draco had ever witnessed, yet as he stepped closer, he realised that, whoever she was, she was most definitely a stranger. He had never seen her before in his entire life.

Draco stopped in front of her throne and looked right at her even though every instinct he had told him to avert his eyes. The witch wore a flowing, black gown that stood in stark contrast to her pale skin. Long, silver hair was falling down over her shoulders and her dark eyes were watching him with mild curiosity. There was no doubt left in his mind that she was the most skilled, the most powerful person in this room and that she alone was responsible for the magic happening around here. It terrified and amazed Draco at the same time. When, at last, she opened her mouth, the music seemed to stop, but only for him. Everyone else around him never paid them even the slightest attention.

“When Mr Borgin told me we would receive a newcomer, I have to admit I didn’t expect Draco Malfoy,” she said with a voice too sweet for what she was capable of.

In response, Draco cleared his throat and straightened his back. He wanted to voice his request, but some strange kind of magic was still holding him back. In fact, his feet felt glued to the ground. There was no escaping this spell even if he had wanted to.

“I’m surprised,” the woman said, smiling at him. It didn’t seem friendly. “Last I heard you had turned your back on Dark Magic. So, what brings you here? Curiosity? Hunger for power? Boredom? It must get incredibly lonely in that manor of yours all the time.”

“None of that.” Draco finally found his voice again. “Word is, you have a spell to erase the Dark Mark. I need it.”

The woman’s eyes lingered on him for a long moment, trying to read his soul just like Astoria had done mere hours ago. Only this time, it felt stranger. When she spoke again, it wasn’t an answer to his request.

“Some of us still wear the Mark with pride, others don’t give a damn.” She gestured around the room. “Some never had it.”

Draco followed her eyes and scanned the crowd, taking in their faces for the very first time and only now did he notice what should have bugged him right from the start. If this was where Death Eaters came to play now, how come he didn’t know a single one of them? Yes, many had died during the war and yes, even more had been sent to Azkaban, but Draco had never been fool enough to believe they had caught them all. The Ministry could try as they might and never catch every single family member, friend and acquaintance that had dabbled in the Dark Arts. Yet the people in this room were strangers and the realisation tightened the knot in his stomach even further.

“I can’t see the Mark on any of them,” Draco blurted out and turned to look at the woman again. This place had been eerie from the beginning, but the dreadful feeling in his stomach grew worse by the second. Not because it frightened him or he was afraid they might do him harm, no, it was simply because he didn’t understand. “I don’t know any of these people.”

At that, she chuckled and it was the first thing that actually sounded sincere. “That’s because we’re not Death Eaters, silly. The Death Eaters died with Voldemort. As for them.” She nodded towards the crowd and shrugged softly. “I reckon you know about half of them. I certainly know _you_. But we wouldn’t want them knowing each other and naming names if someone _untrustworthy_ happened to stumble into our midst. I’m sure you understand the need for Polyjuice Potion and Glamours.”

The way she stressed the word _untrustworthy_ left Draco with little doubt that she meant him. Still, he had come this far. He couldn’t just give up. “What is this place? What are you if not Death Eaters?” he demanded to know.

The woman sighed wearily as if she had already had to explain it a million times. For a moment, Draco thought she might not answer him at all.

“We’re nothing like the Death Eaters. First, we’re all quite glad to be rid of the so-called _Dark Lord_. Not all of us are Slytherins or pure-bloods or Muggle-haters. We don’t give a damn about that. In fact, the ones among us that used to follow Voldemort had to swear the Unbreakable Vow not to harm Muggle-borns with the magic they found here.”

The longer Draco spent in his place, the less he understood. All he knew was that he had just shown his face to a crowd of people who had all decided to hide who they were. Whatever it meant, it couldn’t be good.

“However, we’re not entirely happy about what the Ministry is doing. We believe that magic, _all_ magic should be free for anyone to use and yes, that includes the darkest of Dark Arts. So, you understand our need to hide. The spells we cast inside these walls would earn each and every single one of us a sentence in Azkaban.”

The woman leaned forward as if to get a better look at him, as if to read his thoughts and suddenly, Draco felt glad for all the Occlumency lessons Aunt Bellatrix had given him. Though even if she read his mind, all she was going to find was his need for one single spell.

“Tell me, Draco, why would we want the Ministry to hide or, worse, destroy the knowledge wizardkind has accumulated over centuries? Why should we not practice the Dark Arts if all of us are of age and give consent?”

Draco had no answer to that, but he couldn’t help the feeling of nausea that was beginning to creep up inside his stomach. Just because he couldn’t find a decent argument, it didn’t mean that he was comfortable with the idea. Somehow, he had an entirely bad feeling about it.

So he merely shrugged. “I honestly don’t care what you do,” he lied. The part of him that cared was revolted by it all. “I just want out. I won’t tell anyone what I saw in here. I just want a spell to erase the Dark Mark and then I’ll leave you alone forever. Do you have it or not?”

The moment the woman took to answer felt like an eternity, but eventually, she leaned back into her seat and smiled. “We are a secret society with, as you can see, many faithful members, but if we start trusting the wrong people, the entire organisation could go up in smoke. So you’ll understand that we can’t just share our secrets with any random person who walks in. Especially not if they don’t share our belief.”

Draco opened his mouth, but the magic in this room prevented him from speaking.

“Don’t lie to me, Draco. I know how much you despise the Dark Arts, how afraid you are of them.”

The truth came crashing down on him in one simple instance and his heart sank into his boots. Despite everything he had tried, despite what he had done to seek her out, despite his family name, she wouldn’t help him. Everything, truly everything had been in vain. He was never going to escape his past.

“However,” the woman suddenly continued, her eyes alert and set on him, “I’ve heard of a book called _A Secret History of Spells_ that is supposed to lie hidden in the Malfoy library. If you were to bring that book to me, I do believe you and I could make a deal.”

Draco stared back at her, unsure whether he had understood correctly. “So, if I give you the book, you’ll give me the spell in exchange?”

The woman nodded. “You’ll find out about our next meeting through the coin. Now, if you’re not intending to join our celebrations, I suggest you go back home.”

In response, Draco bowed his head a little and then turned around on his heels. The woman had released him from the spell she cast over the room and his feet sped up, desperate to escape whatever it was that was happening here. The other witches and wizards around him had begun to notice him, too, and a tall man stepped into his path as he tried to make his way outside, but Draco didn’t stop. He moved past him and, once he had reached the corridor, broke out into a run.


	8. Chapter 8

“You came home late last night,” his mother noted over her plate, a soft smile playing around the corners of their lips. The two of them were having breakfast in the otherwise deserted dining room since Lucius Malfoy had excused himself to take care of some paperwork in his office. His mother had long given up complaining about his comings and goings and his inability to even commit to a family event as simple as having breakfast together. Yet the friendly smile on his mother’s face seemed genuine.

“Yeah,” Draco replied after a while, stuffing the scrambled eggs into his mouth with his fork, “I went to see some friends.”

His mother breathed an audible sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. You’ve been cooped up in here for way too long. You’re still young and you should go out and… mingle.”

“Well, that’s what I did last night. Someone I know was having a party.” It wasn’t even a lie, only he couldn’t give away the identity of the host. Yet since the woman had said that she knew him, he could only assume that he knew her, too.

Draco continued to eat his breakfast, all too aware that his mother’s eyes were still on him. The sensation that she was burning to say something else was palpable in the air.

“You know, I married your father when I was a few years younger than you are now,” she began.

Draco rolled his eyes. It wasn’t as if this conversation came entirely out of the blue. In fact, he had been expecting it for quite some time now. It was a tradition for all pure-blood families to marry their children off to members of other well-respected families so they could produce even more pure-blood wizard children. Draco saw exactly two problems in his mother’s flawed plan: The Malfoy name had lost some of its meaning over the last couple of years and he had no intention to marry. Right now, a wife was an additional problem he really didn’t need and children were entirely out of the question. Even picturing himself as a father, with only Lucius Malfoy as a role model, made him want to burst into laughter. Draco could never do that to a child.

“I spoke with your healer yesterday,” his mother continued, “after you stormed out. And she said it would be best for you to try to resume a normal life. You know, make friends, maybe meet a nice woman. Just do something that isn’t brooding in your room or in the library.”

“That healer knows nothing,” Draco spat. “Except how to be very annoying.”

“I think she is very nice and trying her best to help her patients. And it’s not like you have anything to lose by going out and meeting people,” she argued. “I just don’t want you to miss out on all the amazing experiences you could be having. Those first few years with your father, raising you, that was the best time of my life. I’m not expecting you to get married and give me grandchildren anytime soon, but I want you to be happy. And Ms Greengrass agreed that you should go out and live a little. We both think it would make you feel better.”

Draco raised his head and glared at her. “And how happy were you when father joined the Death Eaters? How happy were you when he got sent to Azkaban? When Voldemort chose me as a means of punishing him? How happy are you right now after everything father has brought upon our family?”

The clatter of steel on china rang through the air as Narcissa dropped her cutlery back on the plate. Draco could hear a sharp intake of breath, knew she was ready to say something, but he wasn’t quite done yet.

“Don’t defend him,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare defend him right now. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I can’t see what has happened to this family?! You and Father haven’t been in the same room for longer than thirty minutes ever since the war! You’re trying to keep up the pretence and act as if the Malfoy name still matters, but it doesn’t. When people look at us, they see Death Eaters and they always will, whether we were acquitted or not. This-”

Draco pulled up his sleeve, baring the Mark before his mother who flinched at the sight.

“This means I can _never_ have a normal life and it’s all thanks to father! What kind of woman do you think would ever marry me? What would happen to my children? All I have to offer is a family name everyone resents and the darkness that my father has brought upon our family!”

With one sudden movement, Draco rose to his feet and stormed off. He had stayed up all night, considering, wondering, weighing all the pros and cons against each other and he had finally reached a conclusion. To erase the Dark Mark from his skin was the only way he could ever escape and he would do whatever it took to get what he wanted. He was a Slytherin, after all, and Slytherins never gave up, they never stopped once they were determined to reach a goal and his goal was to remove the Mark from his arm. It didn’t even matter why the strange woman wanted a book from his personal library, it didn’t matter what she intended to do with it - giving it to her was the only way to strike a bargain, so that was what he would do.

He had almost reached the library when Dibly suddenly stepped into his path.

“Master Malfoy can’t do it!” the house-elf insisted. Draco rolled his eyes. He should have never confided in the elf. “Master cannot give the evil woman the book, sir!”

“Master can do whatever the hell we wants!” Draco barked at the elf and tried to push past her, but Dibly stood her ground.

“Dibly has a bad feeling about this,” the small elf confessed. “Dibly doesn’t trust this woman. Master should not give her the book.”

Confronted with Dibly’s large, pleading eyes, Draco felt some of his anger leave his body. He knew that both his mother and the house-elf meant well, but it didn’t stop either of them from being very, very annoying. Draco exhaled sharply, trying to gather his thoughts.

“They have something that I need,” he confessed. “And they will only trade for the book. I know what you mean, I don’t feel comfortable with it either, but it’s the only way. After that, everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.”

Reluctantly, the elf stepped out of the way and allowed Draco to enter the library. In the previous weeks, he had spent more than enough time in these walls and yet, Draco had no idea where he was supposed to look. The book the strange woman had mentioned hadn’t crossed his path yet and even if it had, Draco wasn’t sure he would have remembered.

Even as he raised his wand and uttered the word _Accio_ , he had little hope that the spell would actually work and just as Draco had expected, no book came flying at him. Angrily, he stared at his wand as if it had committed a horrible betrayal, yet deep inside his mind, he knew the sad truth. The wand had never been at fault. His exhaustion, the constant reminder on his forearm, his anger at his father, all of that had managed to turn him into a Squib. Taking a deep breath, Draco reminded him that it was only temporary.

A sudden noise startled him and Draco looked up to realise that the spell hadn’t summoned the book for him, but it had caught the attention of someone else who had been lurking inside the library. Slowly, Lucius Malfoy stepped out from between the shelves.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” his father’s deep voice drawled. It was obvious he didn’t approve of Draco’s presence in this room.

“I’m looking for a book,” Draco replied coldly. “But I’m more than capable of finding it myself, thanks.”

He made an attempt to move towards the first shelf but, with a speed quite uncommon for his father, Lucius blocked his path. He had moved closer, hand leaning against a shelf, his arm separating Draco from where he had meant to go.

“I went to great lengths to protect this library from the Ministry raids. I personally enchanted every single book with the most complex spells I know to prevent them from knowing what they contained.”

Draco met his gaze defiantly. He didn’t even care what his father was trying to tell him, the simple fact that he spoke to him in such a threatening manner was a nuisance.

“These books cannot under any circumstances leave the house,” Lucius warned. “If someone managed to trace them back to their origin, we would all be in trouble. Again.”

“May I read them in the library, _Father_?” Draco asked with a voice as sharp as a knife.

Lucius hesitated, his gaze shifting from Draco to the shelves and back again. In another life, Draco would have been worried by his father’s discomfort, but the war had changed even that. It had caused him to lose all respect he had previously held for him.

“Honestly, Draco, I’d rather you didn’t,” he admitted eventually. “I realise I can’t stop you. You’re of age and God knows you’ve witnessed enough of what the Dark Arts can accomplish-”

Draco scoffed in response. “And who is the reason _why_ I had to witness it?”

“Practising or even studying the Dark Arts,” Lucius continued as if Draco hadn’t said anything, “can get you into a lot of trouble in this current climate. Do it, if you must, but be careful about it. Above all, be careful who you trust.”

Even though he had finished, his father opened his mouth once more, but then seemed to change his mind. Instead, there was an odd expression on his face that Draco couldn’t quite place even as Lucius stepped back and exited the library, leaving Draco on his own at last. Draco stared after his father even though he had long gone, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong, that he suspected something.

“Dibly!”

The house-elf appeared instantly. “Master Malfoy called?”

Draco lowered his head towards the elf and looked at him inquisitively. “You didn’t mention anything about my plans to my parents, did you?”

Dibly looked horribly affronted. “Dibly would _never_ , sir! Not when Master said to keep it secret!”

“Good,” Draco concluded with a nod. “Let’s keep it that way.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A WORD OF WARNING: I promised that I would give you a warning before certain events took place. In the last part of the chapter, there are, once again, mentions of self-harm with the use of magic. You can safely read the first part and skip the rest of the chapter and go straight to the next.

Even though Draco would have never admitted it willingly during his Hogwarts years, he had always secretly enjoyed libraries and the knowledge they contained. There were so many spells their teachers hadn’t shown them, so many spells his parents had never used in front of him, and Draco had always found it particularly enjoyable to show off magic that others didn’t know about. Not that Crabbe or Goyle had really been the audience to appreciate it. Now that he was browsing the shelves for a specific book, however, Draco’s love for libraries was beginning to abate a little. Even with Dibly’s help, it seemed like an impossible task.

“Try your magic again,” Draco asked out of sheer despair after a couple more hours had passed.

The elf obeyed, but the snap of her fingers yielded no visible results. It was no use. His father had successfully magic-proofed the library.

Groaning loudly, he walked over to the desk he had so often occupied during the last couple of weeks and slumped down in the chair. What if the Galleon he now kept in his pocket had all times started to glow and he didn’t have what the woman wanted? What if he missed his only opportunity? What if he took too long? What if the woman changed her mind? What if he never managed to rid himself of the Dark Mark?

Draco’s gaze wandered towards his arm where the tattoo was etched into his skin and he felt a new wave of nausea when he considered his bleak options. Tugging at his sleeve once more, making sure the Mark was well hidden, Draco inhaled sharply, knowing that he had to do whatever it took because the alternative simply wouldn’t do. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life looking at it. Every time he did, it happened all over again. Voldemort prowling his home as though it belonged to him, Aunt Bella’s laughter, the screams of terror and pain, the gut-wrenching sensation he had experienced when forced to perform the Cruciatus curse, Dumbledore’s empty eyes, the noise and smoke of the battle, Crabbe consumed by the flames of the Fiendfyre.

The force of the memories seemed to knock the breath out of him and in a sudden outburst of rage, Draco let out a scream and shoved a stack of books off the table in one sweeping gesture.

Dibly hurried to his aid while he was still gasping for breath and out of the corner of his eye, he watched the elf gather up the books his father had so carefully stacked on the table. The house-elf moved quickly to put them back into a neat stack.

“Sir, young Master’s father will be furious,” Dibly warned carefully.

Draco threw a disdainful glance at the growing stack and scoffed, knowing that it was probably true and his father cared more about his precious books than he did about his son, but then, something caught his attention. Ignoring Dibly’s attempts to put them back exactly as Lucius Malfoy had left them, Draco reached right into the stack and pulled out one of the books his father had been reading. His heart gave a leap of joy when he realised he was truly holding _A Secret History of Spells_ in both of his hands.

“We did it,” Draco uttered breathlessly. “We found the book.”

He turned his head towards the elf and for the first time in months, Draco actually felt like smiling. “It’s going to be okay.”

* * *

The wait seemed endless. Even though his mood had improved upon finding the book, Draco still found it difficult to find some rest or focus on anything but the impending trade, the trade that would finally change his life for the better. He couldn’t wait to start over, to finally leave the war behind, so he found himself fiddling with the Galleon, hoping it might turn hot in his hands. At night, he clutched the coin in his fist, but he never woke up to the burning pain of the spell.

In the meantime, he kept the book hidden in his room, afraid his father might come between him and his goal if he found out, but while Lucius Malfoy seemed to watch him more carefully now, he never said a word. His mother, however, was a different matter entirely. After granting him space following his outburst, she quickly returned to being her usual, hovering self, constantly checking up on him and asking whether he needed help. Draco ignored that, too. Another matter he never reacted to was the owl from St. Mungo's, inviting him to meet Astoria Greengrass for an assessment. Draco crumpled the letter and tossed it into the fireplace. Once he was rid of the Mark, none of it would matter anymore.

A week after he had unearthed the book, Draco’s mother asked him to join them for dinner and once more, the Malfoy family sat down in the quiet dining room, failing even at small talk. He hadn’t even started his meal when Draco suddenly felt a strange sensation, a kind of heat radiating from his pocket and, knowing what it meant, he withdrew the Galleon under the table and spotted the one thing he had been waiting for. A new set of coordinates and a timestamp that told him the meeting would take place in half an hour.

“I’m sorry,” Draco apologised briefly and rose from his seat. “I completely forgot. I’m supposed to meet a friend for dinner.”

His father continued to eat as if he had never said anything. His mother looked up, surprised. “Now?” was all she asked.

“Yes, now,” he confirmed. “I have to hurry or I’m going to be late.”

Frowning slightly, Narcissa Malfoy placed her cutlery aside. “You never mentioned anything. Is that a friend we know?”

His eyes involuntarily wandered towards his shoes. Draco couldn’t look at his mother and lie even though it technically wasn’t untrue. “I’m meeting a woman,” he explained. “Like you said I should.”

Whether the explanation put his mother’s mind at ease, Draco didn’t know because he never bothered to look at her before turning around on his heels and walking out of the room. Once he had reached the corridor, Draco broke out into a run, darting off towards the kitchen to fetch Dibly. He had less than half an hour to get to the coordinates, wherever they were, and he had no intention of being late to the most important appointment in his life.

Dibly wasn’t quite as excited as he was to find out that the plan was finally coming to a close. She begged and pleaded him not to go, but Draco hardly heard the protests. As soon as he had put on his travelling cloak and hidden the book deep inside its pocket, he held out his hand to the frightened elf and told her to obey.

A feeling of surprise came over Draco when he felt solid ground under hid feet again and looked around him. The sun hadn’t quite disappeared behind the fields and, instead, hung low on the horizon, casting a few last rays right through the gaps of the stone monument. There was no house, no building, no gathering crowd of witches and wizards. Tonight, there was only her, leaning casually against one of the pillars of Stonehenge.

“Subtle,” Draco growled, yet even though he put on a mask of bravery, he couldn’t help but feel a little on edge. The last meeting had clearly demonstrated her power, it had demonstrated she had followers and that there was nothing Draco could do to touch them. Tonight, however, she had come alone and still, it felt as if she was trying to prove a point that Draco didn’t understand.

“Hello Draco,” she greeted him with a false smile.

Despite his fear and the feeling of uneasiness, Draco forced himself to breathe. “Where’s your crowd?”

She shrugged. “This call was only for you,” the woman explained. “I wanted to see whether you had been able to retrieve the book. Or whether you had changed your mind. You do realise the spell I will give you in exchange causes an ineffable amount of pain?”

Her voice sounded casual, conversational, but she couldn’t quite hide the hint of glee she must have been feeling at the mental image of him in pain. No matter what she said, no matter what her intentions were, no matter what she called herself, that woman was no less evil than any other Death Eater. Draco knew that he still had time to change his mind, to grab Dibly’s hand and make a run for it. Merlin knew it was what he wanted to do right now, but what he wanted even more was to be rid of the Dark Mark. So Draco decided to stall her until he was sure.

“What about the Muggles?” he wanted to know. “This place should be packed with them, shouldn’t it?”

Her dark eyes narrowed and Draco felt the intensity of her gaze on him as she left the pillar and approached him. Instinctively, his own eyes wandered towards Dibly to see if the elf was still in range. His escape route was still open if he wished to use it.

Instead, Draco reached inside his travelling coat and retrieved the volume he had stolen from his father’s library. He hadn’t bothered to read it, thinking it was safer to not know just what kind of magic this woman and her clan of evil wizards were after. Now that he was about to hand it over, Draco regretted not knowing. Yet he had made his choice. For the first time in his life, it felt as if it was actually up to him to control his own future. The Dark Mark, the Death Eaters, the atrocities they had asked of him - he had been pushed to do that, coerced, unable to go against their wishes if he wanted to keep himself and his family alive. Now, handing over the book in exchange for a way out, that was entirely up to him.

The woman reached out, opening her palms so he might place the book in them, but Draco didn’t move. “The spell,” he reminded her.

She smiled her cold smile once again and, with a puff of smoke, a small note appeared in her hand. “I would also like my Galleon back, please,” she added. “Clearly, you’re not interested in joining our little group, so I see no reason for you to hang on to it.”

“Deal,” Draco agreed only too willingly. He pulled the coin out of his pocket and placed it on top of the book. After this, after receiving the spell, he really had no intention to ever see this woman again.

He was about to move forward and begin their trade when the woman made a small gesture and the contents of their palms changed. In the blink of an eye, the weight of the book vanished and was replaced by a small note. Draco didn’t even bother to see where his father’s book had gone, he merely unfolded the paper to confirm that it indeed contained what he had been looking for. A spell and the instructions to use it. A weight dropped off his heavy shoulders.

“This is goodbye, then, Draco Malfoy,” the woman said. Then, she chuckled. “Good luck with your spell.”

Draco didn’t even notice her disappearance until Dibly reached for the edge of his cloak and tugged at it gently. Still, he found it impossible to tear his gaze away from the small sheet of paper, the key to his happiness, his future, the key to regaining control over his life. He realised that up until a moment ago, he hadn’t actually believed he would succeed in getting it and now that he had, Draco only felt relief. And impatience.

“Sir, Dibly and Master should return to the manor,” the elf said carefully. “What if the woman comes back?”

Draco ignored him. Right now, he felt the white-hot power of success run through every vein in his body, felt it strengthen him by giving him hope. If he returned to the manor now, all of that would be gone and he would once again be surrounded by the memories, the guilt, the shame which clung to every particle inside that house. He had to do it right here, right now, far away from everything that was pulling him down.

In a moment of bravery, Draco pulled up his sleeve and, in the waning sunlight, glanced, for the last time, at the Dark Mark that graced his skin. The memories threatened to come and overwhelm him once more, but he pushed them away by focusing on what he had come here to do. It would all be over soon. No more memories. No more guilt. No more hatred. A few more moments and he would be free.

“Master Malfoy, Dibly has a bad feeling about this,” Dibly warned him, but Draco merely looked at him and smiled - properly smiled - for the first time.

“It’ll be okay,” Draco reassured her. Once they got back home, he would make sure to thank the house-elf, just to show a little kindness for his helper.

With a deep intake of breath, Draco reached for his wand and pushed the tip of it deep into the skin of his forearm, just like the instruction had said. After weeks of feeling powerless, he was sure that the magic was running right through him at this moment. Then, he uttered the words.

A ghastly, harrowing scream tore through the night, resounding in his ears to the point his eardrums almost burst and it took Draco long, much too long to comprehend that it had come from him. The intensity of the pain had sent his body into a state of shock, but once he realised what was happening, the agony had spread. They had been right, that was all he could think. The Cruciatus Curse was nothing compared to this. With the intensity of a broken bone, of fire on skin, of the knife he had cut into his own skin, the spell took hold and spread into every cell of his body. At this point, Draco was sure that even the little hairs on his skin were in pain. He wanted to scream until he realised that he was already screaming, that he had been screaming for so long his voice had given out and no sound left his throat anymore. He wanted to cry. He wanted to slam his head into the ground just to make it stop. At this moment, for the first time in his life, he wanted to die if only he could be sure it would make the agony go away.

When he came to, Draco was lying on the ground, still writhing with the aftershocks of the spell. The sky was dark and there were no stars in sight as he stared blankly into the distance. He hadn’t even realised he had blacked out.

“Master?” Dibly’s voice croaked next to him, but Draco couldn’t move. Not yet.

When the fog in his brain slowly began to lift, Draco remembered the cause of the pain and what had made him do it. Opening his mouth, he noticed that his throat was still hoarse from screaming, yet somehow, he managed to get the words out. “Did it work?” Draco wanted to know.

Dibly remained silent next to him.

It took all the strength he had left to turn his head, to raise his arm just enough to catch a glimpse of the Mark that was still etched into his skin, taunting him out of empty sockets of the skull, sticking its snake-tongue out to mock him.

Even though it hurt, even though it would hurt a lot more, Draco lifted his wand once more and spoke the words. This time, the pain knocked him out immediately and he felt himself falling into a deep, black hole.


	10. Chapter 10

Even in unconsciousness, there was pain. The intensity of it had slowly ebbed away to a dull throbbing in every cell, but it had never quite left. Or maybe he had died and carried the pain with him into the afterlife, a horrible thought, so he decided to just let himself drift and not think of anything anymore. The voices, however, wouldn’t let him go. On and on they went, talking in the background, growing louder, angrier and more annoying with each new sentence. Draco wanted nothing more than to escape them, to shut them out and return to the blissful darkness where the pain hadn’t felt so bad and once again, he was slow to realise that he wasn’t unconscious at all anymore.

“I demand to see my son _now_!”

Draco’s eyes opened wide when his father’s voice rang through the air, loud and clear and definitely not imaginary. The blinding light was almost overwhelming, but it didn’t stop him from forcing them to remain open. Despite the pain, despite the desperate urge to plunge back into the darkness of unconsciousness, Draco looked around and noticed instantly that he was back at St. Mungo's. There was no Astoria Greengrass hovering over him this time, no other healer in sight. There was nothing but a bleak room and his father’s angry voice.

“Lucius, please.” Draco heard his mother plead in a placatory manner. “Lower your voice.”

“I will _not_ lower my voice and I will _not_ calm down!” his father shouted. 

Even though he was in another room, the anger in his father’s voice made Draco flinch. The rage, that subtle undertone of fear, he hadn’t heard that since the war and still, it frightened Draco, made him feel small.

“We just want to see that he is alright,” his mother said calmly. “Please, just for a moment.”

“Your son is going to be okay,” a third, mildly familiar voice reassured them. “But he is in no state to receive visitors right now. One he’s back on track, I will personally send you an owl to let you know, but I cannot let you go in there right now. Especially not while you’re angry.”

“I don’t think you know who you’re talking to, Ms Greengrass,” Lucius growled at her and Draco suddenly had the mental image of his father stepping forward to threaten her. He also understood why the voice had sounded familiar and, of course, it couldn’t have been anyone but Astoria Greengrass.

Unable to fall back asleep or leave, Draco decided to just keep listening. He also hoped that whatever Astoria said next would keep his parents away. He hated to admit it, but she was right. Visitors were the last thing he needed right now.

“I think I’m talking to Lucius Malfoy, the man who thinks he still has the power to order everyone to do his bidding,” Astoria Greengrass retorted. There was anger in her voice now, too. “I think I’m talking to an angry father who wants to intrude on his son’s recovery to make himself feel better. And you’re right about that. What happened to your son _is_ your fault. At least part of it.”

There was a flash and a soft thud of a blocked spell, following by a crashing sound.

“Lucius!”

Draco’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest and he was sure that any moment now, his parents would come bursting into his room after overpowering his healer. Instead, he only heard his father groan.

“You’re going to pay for this!” Lucius shouted angrily.

“I’m a healer at this hospital, Mr Malfoy,” Astoria reminded him sternly. “My patients are my responsibility and if someone threatens them or someone is trying to prevent me from doing my job, I have every right to defend myself. You cannot see your son right now and no matter what you throw at me, be it curses or words, will change my mind. Go home. Calm down. I will send you an owl when he wakes up.”

Furious footsteps hurried down the corridor and Draco breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that his father was gone. However, the voices didn’t stop and it was his mother who spoke next.

“He won’t forget that, Ms Greengrass,” Narcissa said quietly but determinedly. “We still have _some_ friends in high places and they will hear about this.”

“Good,” Astoria replied. “Just be sure to tell them how your husband attacked me first.”

His mother’s footsteps followed those of her husband and the sound of her heels slowly grew quieter until they vanished completely. Draco finally closed his eyes again, suddenly grateful for Astoria’s determination. An urge to laugh came over him and Draco found himself chuckling at the idea of his father being knocked on his ass by his healer. No matter how annoying she was, right now, Draco actually felt a strange fondness for her.

However, the brief moment of cheerfulness didn’t last long when the realisation struck him. He was back at St. Mungo's, probably thanks to Dibly, and he was afraid to lift his arm and look, afraid that he was still going to find the Dark Mark on his skin. The spell had failed. It had caused him pain, but it had failed to do what it was intended to do and he knew without looking that everything had been in vain.

Tired and hopeless, Draco closed his eyes again, hoping that sleep would take him quickly, but he had no such luck when Astoria Greengrass spoke again, this time, directly to him.

“I know you’re awake, Draco.”

* * *

Astoria felt angry. And exhausted. It was an annoying cocktail of emotions to feel, especially so early into a nightshift, but as she watched Narcissa Malfoy walk away, the woman didn’t take the anger or the exhaustion with her. Instead, all that baggage was dropped onto Astoria’s shoulders at once, making her wonder if maybe now was the right time to mix herself a little potion that would level her feelings. What exactly was she angry at? Lucius Malfoy’s attempted attack? The fact that Draco had, despite her warning, made further attempts to remove the Dark Mark? Narcissa Malfoy’s empty threats? If she was perfectly honest, it was a frustrating mix of all of the above. Astoria couldn’t even say how she had managed to react so quickly and block Lucius’s spell, but she had and she was proud of it. He had most definitely earned to be knocked on his arse and Astoria didn’t care about the consequences because she knew it had been the right thing to do. Even if the hospital called her in and made her explain, she would do it all over again. If either Lucius or Narcissa had heeded the advice she had given in her last owl, maybe their son wouldn’t be back at the hospital now.

Astoria inhaled deeply, trying to shake the tiredness she still felt after the recent argument and instead focus on her patient. So she grabbed the potion she had already prepared from the nearby tray and made her way towards his room. Passing the window, Astoria caught a glimpse of him on his bed and to her great relief, she realised that he had already woken up. Now, she only needed to shake her anger and everything would be fine, but the sheer determination wasn’t quite enough to make her hands stop trembling. Another deep breath and a quick, calming spell later, she stepped into Draco Malfoy’s room.

The young man was lying on his bed, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. For a brief moment, Astoria even considered just leaving him like that. It was as if every time she saw him, Draco looked a little bit worse. His skin was pale and stood in stark contrast to the dark bags under his eyes that told her he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in weeks. He also looked a little bit thinner than he had the last time, almost worryingly so. No, Astoria determined, her responsibility as a healer preventing her from playing along.

“I know you’re awake, Draco,” she said quietly.

His eyes flew open immediately and she had expected to find a defiant, angry expression on his face. After all, nothing had gone according to plan for him. After Apparating him right into her office, Dibly the house-elf had confessed the entire story while Astoria prevented her from hurting herself. Draco had gone against her advice, found the spell and cast it in an attempt to remove the Dark Mark, just like she had asked him not to.

Yet as she stepped closer to sit on the chair right next to his bed, Astoria was surprised to find Draco smiling at her. Maybe the spell had affected his mind, after all.

“Something funny?” she asked, feeling a little bothered that he was amused despite the gravity of the situation.

To her amazement, he chuckled in response. “I heard what happened outside,” he replied, his voice still weak. “Did it look as funny as it sounded when my father landed on his arse?”

Despite her better intentions, Astoria smiled at him in return. “You know, as a healer, I can’t condone violence.”

“But he was the one who attacked you. You were merely acting in self-defence.”

Finally, Astoria chuckled, too. “Yes, it did look funny,” she admitted with a gentle nod.

Draco attempted to take a deep breath, but when he flinched, Astoria realised that he was probably still in pain. A part of her even thought he deserved it for being so reckless and stupid, so she decided to withhold the potion for a moment longer.

“I like how you stood up to him,” Draco said. The smile had gone now and he was being completely serious. “I wish I was brave enough to do that.”

“I’m not entirely sure whether it was brave or stupid,” she said. Of course, she had acted in self-defence, but the incident could still get her into a lot of trouble, especially if the Malfoys indeed still had friends in the right places. But that was a worry for another day. “But speaking of stupidity, you certainly don’t lack that, either. I told you what would happen if you went looking for that spell. You’re incredibly lucky that you were already weakened. If you had had your usual strength, your usual power, the spell would have killed you and there’s nothing your elf or I could have done about that.”

To her surprise, Draco nodded. Maybe he was too tired to even argue. “I’m sorry,” he said and it sounded like he actually meant it. “But I had to try. I just wanted to get rid of the Dark Mark. I just wanted to be happy again, live a normal life without… _that_.”

When he gestured towards his arm, Astoria granted him a smile even though she knew that it was a sad one. “Draco, I don’t think you’ve ever been truly happy.”

The moment she said it, Astoria wished she could take back the words. During their Hogwarts years, she had only ever glimpsed him from afar and the man who sat in front of her right now was someone she didn’t know at all. She had no right whatsoever to make such assumptions about him.

But Draco surprised her once again because he didn’t answer, he didn’t even argue. Maybe, she hadn’t been entirely wrong, after all. Yet for the sake of the fragile peace they seemed to have come to after their previous arguments, Astoria decided to move on as quickly as possible.

“I don’t think you’re particularly familiar with Muggle medicine,” she went on to explain, “but after completing my education as a healer, I studied their methods for a year, particularly when it comes to afflictions of the mind. Turns out, Muggles are far ahead of us wizards when it comes to that.”

In response, Draco raised his eyebrows at her. “Is this going somewhere in particular or are you just telling me your entire biography to keep the conversation going?”

The sarcasm was audible in his voice, but it was entirely free of malice for once.

“Do you know what PTSD is?” Astoria wanted to know.

Draco merely shrugged.

“A muggle term. Post-traumatic stress disorder,” she explained and to her amazement, Draco seemed to actually listen this time. “It happens after a terrifying or traumatic event like the sudden loss of a loved one, an accident or… a war. A lot of witches and wizards came here after Voldemort’s downfall and the hospital didn’t know what to do with them. They showed no physical symptoms, but many suffered from nightmares, guilt, shame. Some said they couldn’t sleep, others that they kept reliving the battle. Many felt disconnected and unable to move on, to let go. Does that sound familiar to you?”

Draco didn’t respond, but she watched him swallow hard and took his silence as a yes.

“What you’re experiencing is quite normal and we can help you. We can’t remove the Dark Mark from your arm, but we can do everything else. And if you agree to let us help, I promise that it will get better. You _can_ be happy, you _can_ lead a normal life, regardless of that silly tattoo.”

Scoffing and rolling his eyes, Draco turned his head away.

“By the way, I told your father all of that earlier. The suggestion that it was a _Muggle thing_ … he really didn’t like that. That’s what started the fight.”

From one moment to the next, Draco’s eyes were back on her, narrowed, suspicious. “Are you trying to get me to agree to something just to piss off my father, Greengrass?” he wanted to know.

Astoria shrugged. “I don’t care what it takes to get you to agree to accept help, _Malfoy_.”

“That’s really low,” Draco growled.

She chuckled. Astoria wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing even though her classmates had repeatedly told her that she didn’t fit in.

“Fine,” he hissed eventually. “I’ll do it. I accept your help.”

Happy and pleased with herself, Astoria rose from her seat and finally held out the potion for Draco to take. “Good,” she concluded. “Now, drink this. It’ll help you sleep and recover from the pain. We can talk about everything else later.”

Draco took the potion out of her hand, opened the little vial and downed the contents in one go. Knowing that he would be asleep within ten minutes and probably remain sleeping for at least a day, judging by his current state, Astoria felt confident to leave the room. She was sure that she could help him, if he only let her.

“Greengrass?”

Astoria was already halfway out of the door when his voice held her back and made her turn around once more.

“Thanks for standing up to my father,” Draco said sincerely. “You were right. I didn’t want to see them just now.”

She smiled at him, knowing that, unknowingly, he had just taken the first step. “Pleasure,” Astoria replied and closed the door behind her.


	11. Chapter 11

Draco slept not for one but three days. When he woke up at last, Draco noticed that he had completely forgotten what it felt like to be well-rested. The fog around his brain had lifted and the dull ache behind his eyes had gone even though he had already feared it was a permanent sensation. He also noticed that the room around him had changed and once Draco had opened his eyes, it didn’t take him long to rise from the comfort of his bed and explore the strange surroundings.

For a moment, Draco considered the option that he had already left the hospital, that he was somewhere else entirely, but he couldn’t be sure where. The dark green tapestries reminded him of the Slytherin rooms back at Hogwarts, but the large four-poster bed was a lot more comfortable than the school mattresses had ever been - and also a little more luxurious. As he strode across the room, the heavy carpet felt soft under his feet and Draco followed it towards the cosy sitting corner that held two armchairs, a coffee table and a large, fully-stocked bookshelf. Looking back at the opposite end of the room, he found a matching wardrobe. Overall, Draco considered it a comfortable, nice-looking room even though he still wasn’t quite sure where it belonged.

His question was answered shortly after when the door opened and a nurse walked in, carrying a breakfast tray and opening the gap just wide enough for him to catch a glimpse at the hospital corridor outside. He was still at St. Mungo’s.

“Good morning, Mr Malfoy,” the nurse greeted him in a casual, rehearsed manner as she set the tray down on the small coffee table. She had probably already greeted a hundred patients this morning and she would go on to greet a hundred more. “I will inform your healer that you’re awake. She will be with you during the course of the day.”

“Uh, thank you,” Draco replied, still a little confused by the appearance of his room, and the heavenly scent of the breakfast further distracted his mind.

As soon as the door had closed behind the nurse, Draco darted forward and took a large bite off one of the scones. He hadn’t even realised how famished he was. Even though the eggs tasted a little stale and the coffee was lukewarm rather than hot, Draco finished his breakfast without a second thought to it. To be entirely honest, he had expected the hospital food to be worse and he really was hungry.

There was still no sign of Astoria Greengrass once he had emptied his plate and Draco was surprised to feel a hint of disappointment. Up until their last meeting, he would have been perfectly content to never see her again, thinking her annoying and intrusive, but whenever he thought about the young witch standing up to his father, even blocking one of his spells and hurtling him across the hospital corridor, Draco found himself smiling. Lucius Malfoy had definitely earned that and he admired the healer just a little for her skill and bravery. The only thing Draco regretted was that he had not been able to actually watch it happen.

To pass the time until either Astoria or another healer showed up, Draco decided to further explore the room. He quickly found his wand on his bedside table, so he figured that whatever kind of room he was in, he was free to use magic to his heart’s content. Now that he came to think of it, Draco carefully picked it up, wondering what would happen if he actually attempted to cast a spell. His attempts in recent weeks had been less than successful, so he held his wand with a mixture of fear and curiosity. He had blamed the lack of sleep, the lack of a proper meal, but what if his casting was still fickle even after a proper rest? What if the problem lay far deeper and he would remain a Squib until he had resolved his… what had Astoria called it?… Mental afflictions.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

“Lumos,” Draco whispered quietly and he felt his heart skip a beat when the tip of his wand lit up and illuminated the already bright room. A smile of relief spread across his face.

“Well, that’s certainly a start,” a woman’s voice said behind him and when Draco turned around, he stared straight into Astoria Greengrass’s smiling face.

She was dressed in her white healer robes again, her dark curls tied back in a professional-looking bun. Draco had never noticed before how the robes gave her a rather special air of confidence. Or maybe it wasn’t the robes at all, maybe that was entirely Astoria. Whatever it was, it suddenly made him feel silly and inadequate when he considered that he was still in his pyjamas.

“I always thought it was polite to knock before entering a room,” Draco grumbled, unsure what else he was supposed to say. He could have said hello or some other nice phrase, for a change, but her sudden appearance had briefly knocked him back into his old self.

“Privacy is limited here. Get used to it,” she replied as she closed the door to the outside, shutting out the bleak, white corridor. Then, Astoria gestured towards the armchairs. “Shall we have a little chat?”

Draco looked from the armchairs back to her, uncertain. “I’m in my pyjamas,” he blurted out.

“And they prevent you from talking?” Astoria asked, raising her eyebrows at him. Draco watched her eyes wander over his clothes before she gave a shrug. “They’re alright. There’s a man three doors down who’s wearing a set with little Nifflers on it.”

Despite his best intentions, Draco laughed. It felt strange, after such a long time, to just share a joke or a funny moment with someone. The first five years of Hogwarts had been like that, casual jokes, a few pranks, hilarious moments shared with friends. But all of his former friends were either dead, incarcerated or had moved on to pretend that they had never known a Death Eater. Laughing with Astoria, a perfect stranger, felt surprisingly good.

Finally, Draco agreed to sit down and Astoria followed his lead, taking a seat in the remaining armchair. There they sat, ready to talk.

“I say _man_. The boy in the Niffler pyjamas is actually ten years old,” Astoria said with a chuckle.

Draco glowered at her in response. “You’re not making me feel better, Greengrass,” he growled, but he wasn’t actually mad at her. In fact, he felt grateful for the friendly atmosphere. In here, his heart felt a lot lighter than it did at home. Then, he thought of something. “Where am I?”

Astoria turned her head towards him. The laugh had disappeared from her face, but she retained a friendly expression. Draco supposed that it was how she made her patients trust her. “This is St. Mungo’s psych ward,” she explained.

Draco’s frown must have given him away, but she quickly continued to elaborate.

“The rooms work a little like the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts,” she said. “I’m sure you’re familiar with that?”

He was all too familiar with it, but he didn’t exactly have the fondest of memories of that place, not after he had spent an entire year fixing the Vanishing Cabinet in it, not after he had watched one of his closest friends die in it.

“Every patient has different needs, so the rooms adjust accordingly. But you don’t always get what you wish for. In fact, that would be quite bad.”

“How so?” Draco wanted to know.

Astoria leaned forward, closer to him. “Well, imagine someone’s addicted to Firewhisky and that was the reason they came here. If they really craved a bottle of it, the Room of Requirement would provide them with 20, but it would be quite counterproductive to their therapy. So this room would give them anything but. Good books, endless supply of harmless coffee, positive distractions, an atmosphere they can feel comfortable in.”

When she stopped, Astoria looked around the room. “You have good taste. A little dark, but altogether nice.”

“That’s quite extraordinary,” Draco remarked without meaning to. But the magic of this place seemed too excellent not to compliment them.

“Thank you,” Astoria said to his surprise, a broad, proud smile on her face. “The rooms were my idea.”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn’t think of anything to say and Astoria quickly moved the conversation along. Her eyes were watching him closely as she spoke.

“I’m glad you’ve agreed to this, Draco,” she said and she sounded sincere. Then, she raised her eyebrows. “And I hope we’re on the same page here and agree that you should definitely not try to remove the Dark Mark again.”

He scoffed. “Well, seems like I have no other choice. This thing will haunt me for the rest of my life, so I better learn to live with it, right?” Draco replied, raising his arm.

Still, Astoria’s inquisitive gaze was on him. “You say it haunts you and yet you haven’t even thought about it until I mentioned the Mark, am I right?”

Her statement gave Draco pause and once he had racked his brain and realised that she was right, he felt a little angry. Angry and vulnerable because Astoria was too damn clever, because she knew him too well. It was as if he could hide nothing from her and he hated being an open book to anyone.

“So what?” he spat defiantly.

“So the problem is that you’re stuck and I don’t think you want to be,” she replied kindly, a hint of a smile on her face. “But to help you, I’m afraid you’ll first have to go through it all again and tell me what really happened during the war.”

Draco turned his head away, not entirely sure he had made the right decision in staying. Of course, he wanted to leave the past behind, of course, he would love to live a normal life, but he felt a hint of nausea when he thought about Astoria knowing what he had done, what he had seen. Apart from his mother, apart from Dibly, Astoria Greengrass was the very first person who had shown him even a hint of kindness since the war, something he hadn’t expected of anyone. Would she still make jokes about his pyjamas once she knew everything? Would she still look at him with kindness and understanding?

“I mean, I can guess what happened,” she went on. “After all, it’s common knowledge that Voldemort resided in your home. But I need to hear it from you. I need to know what it was like.”

Draco’s first impulse was to shout at her, to tell her to fuck off and leave the past where it was, but when he turned back to face her, all the mean words got stuck in his throat. There she was, his healer, looking at him out of her deep brown eyes that practically begged him to trust her.

“Whatever you tell me, it won’t change my mind about you,” Astoria said as if she had been reading his thoughts. “Whatever you say, you’re my patient and I will help you just like I helped all the others. And, trust me, they all had skeletons hidden in their closets.”

“Fine,” Draco growled eventually. “Get me a vial before I change my mind.”

As if she had already known he would agree, Astoria reached into the pocket of her robe and withdrew a vial that she handed to him. Draco inhaled deeply and then closed his eyes and raised his wand to his temple, extracting the memories that she wanted to see. All the worst memories of his life flooded his mind in a flash, flowing through his wand and into the small glass container. For a moment, Draco thought the gravity of them might cause the bottle to burst, but when he opened his eyes again, it still remained intact, keeping his swirling thoughts in place. For some reason, his heart felt a little lighter.

“Does it feel better?” Astoria wanted to know.

Draco looked up, surprised. “How do you know?”

She merely smiled again. “Sharing a burden always makes it a little lighter,” she replied and held out her hand to receive the vial.

Yet Draco wasn’t quite ready to hand it back to her. He looked at it once more, at the fluorescent swirls inside the tiny glass container. For some reason, he had expected it to look dark and gloomy, just like the memories themselves, but they were a pure, shining white.

“Promise me,” he said without looking at her.

“Promise you what?”

Draco raised his head and stared straight at her, into her kind eyes. “That you won’t look at me differently.”

Gently, Astoria nodded. “I promise.”

He handed over the vial. Once her hands closed around the glass container, however, Astoria began to chuckle again.

Draco frowned at her, suspicious. “What?” he wanted to know.

“Nothing,” she said, obviously trying hard to suppress her laugh. “It’s just that I’ve seen you get transfigured into a ferret, so I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen the worst of you in person.”  
When she finally burst into laughter at the memory of it, Draco glowered at her.

“Greengrass,” he growled warningly, yet he couldn’t quite help but smile a little, too. Back in his fourth year, the ferret incident had been the worst humiliation he had ever had to experience and somehow, the memory of it had gotten buried underneath everything that had followed. Now, looking back, considering what it must have looked like from Astoria’s point of view, he appreciated the humour of it for the very first time. “You’re not being very professional.”

Astoria shrugged, still smiling. Then, her features took on a more sombre expression. “I promise this won’t change what I think about you,” she said once again, holding up the little vial. “We were at war. People do what they have to to survive. And sometimes, all the choices we have are bad ones.”

She rose to her feet and started to make her way towards the door, but Draco wasn’t quite ready to end the conversation yet, not quite ready to let her walk off with his memories. “Your family remained neutral during the war,” he said, causing Astoria to turn around. “You found a way to stay out of it entirely.”

She seemed to consider her response for a moment before she spoke. “It’s easy to stay neutral when you’re a pure-blood family who has nothing to gain or lose on either side. People like you or Harry Potter or any Muggle-born weren’t as privileged. They got caught in the crossfire before they even knew what was happening. You never got to pick a side, a side was picked for you.”

Even though, deep down, Draco had always known it, he had never actually heard an outsider talk like that. All this time, he had been afraid that no one would ever see him as anything but a Death Eater because of the choices his father had made in his youth, because he had mixed with the wrong people and had never found a way out, because Draco had followed in his footsteps out of fear. He couldn’t remember a single moment when it would have been save for him to turn his back and walk away.

“Get some rest, Draco,” Astoria told him. “I’ll be back.”


	12. Chapter 12

Astoria Greengrass wasn’t the person to take her work home with her. She felt passionate about her job, otherwise, she would never have chosen it in the first place. After the pain and destruction of war, she had seen the need for goodness in the wizarding world and what better way to help than to heal? Not just broken bones, but broken hearts and minds as well. It was what she was good at, what she felt strongly about. Yet whenever she left St. Mungo’s after a shift, she discarded the mantle of _Healer Greengrass_ and became _just Astoria_ , a young woman who needed time away from injuries and maladies, a young woman who had a young woman’s life to live. Draco Malfoy’s case, however, had shifted her priorities somewhat and she wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. It had started as an ordinary case up until she had realised that she knew the patient in question, that she had shared a common room with him, watched him grow up, watched him become a Death Eater. Somehow, it had made her all the more determined to help. At first, she had disregarded her own rules by paying the Malfoys a visit. Now, she was bringing the vial containing Draco’s memories into her own home - mostly because the Pensieve at St. Mungo’s was broken, but also because she didn’t want to wait. Draco needed her help right now, not whenever a wizard found the time to fix the hospital’s equipment.

Astoria Apparated to her usual spot on the front lawn because her family home’s protection spells prevented her from going straight inside even though, today, she would have loved to Apparate herself right onto the sofa. Maybe it was her latest habit of carrying her work outside the hospital that left her so tired, but she vowed to herself to get a proper night’s sleep and maybe ask her sister to cook up a little potion to help with the rest. As far as she remembered, Daphne had an excellent recipe for a stimulating tincture. Feeling her pocket, Astoria made sure that Draco’s memories were still stored safely inside and stepped into her home.

The hall was empty, unsurprisingly so. Her father would still be at the Ministry and she found a little note left by her mother which told her that she had gone to Diagon Alley to take care of some shopping, so Astoria made her way upstairs. A shower and the preparation of a sandwich later, she let herself fall right onto her bed, determined to take a moment to herself before pouring the contents of Draco’s memories into the Pensieve in her father’s office.

Her brief moment of peace and quiet was abruptly cut short when the door of her room burst open and her sister Daphne hurried inside. She smiled and giggled and threw herself right onto the bed next to Astoria. It took a fast Summoning Spell to save her sandwich from being squished.

“Guess what happened!” Daphne prompted immediately, not even realising she had almost sat on her sister’s dinner.

Astoria, still tired and her head miles away, was too slow to respond for her sister’s taste and she answered her own question before Astoria ever got the chance.

“Blaise Zabini asked me out!” Daphne announced excitedly, beaming from ear to ear. “Finally!”

For Astoria, it was one of those moments in which she noticed just how different they were as sisters even though, after 21 years, she should no longer be surprised. It wasn’t just the looks that made it almost impossible for anyone to tell that they were related. Daphne had inherited their father’s fair skin and hair while Astoria took after their mother with her olive skin and dark curls. Their personalities, too, couldn’t have been more different. While she was always up for a laugh and cherished a good sense of humour in others, Astoria was most definitely the more serious one among them and only ever reserved her humour for those she cared most about. Her future, her job, her family, her responsibilities, Astoria always took them seriously. Daphne never seemed to take anything seriously at all sometimes, which had probably served her well during the darkest of times. After Hogwarts, Astoria had known only one goal - to find a career that was worth dedicating her life to. Meanwhile, Daphne, just like pure-blood traditions dictated, had looked for a husband to dedicate her life to and even that she had never actually taken seriously. Five years after the war, her sister still hadn’t found someone she deemed good enough for herself. The only thing she had ever shown actual interest in was the acquisition of knowledge, so at least they had _something_ in common.

“Hello?” Daphne asked, waving a hand in front of Astoria’s face as if to rouse her from her thoughts. “Anyone in there?”

Astoria sighed. “Sorry, I’m a little tired, that’s all,” she apologised quickly. “So, Blaise?”

She remembered him vaguely as a tall, good-looking boy who had been on friendly terms with Draco during their school years. Then, her thoughts immediately trailed back to the vial in the pocket of her robe. Draco’s memories.

“I thought he’d never ask,” her sister went on, rolling her eyes impatiently. “I’ve dated almost every other Slytherin, he never showed interest in me when he was the one I actually _wanted to_ show interest. And now, five years later-”

“You never dated Draco Malfoy,” Astoria argued without meaning to. She couldn’t help it. It was the first thing that came to her mind and an obvious sign that she really, really shouldn’t take her work home with her.

Daphne’s face took on an expression of disgust. “I also never dated Goyle. What’s your point?”

Astoria opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was too tired to argue and she still needed some of her energy to go through the memories.

“Besides, I’ve heard rumours that the famous Draco Malfoy is now basically a Squib and tried to kill himself before he was taken to St. Mungo’s,” her sister said, now eyeing her closely. “You haven’t seen him there, have you?”

Suddenly, Astoria felt wide awake without the need of a potion. Even though Daphne’s information wasn’t entirely correct, she should never have heard that much in the first place. Anger was quick to follow her sudden burst of arousal because there was no way someone outside of St. Mungo’s should know about Draco unless someone on the inside took the matter of patient confidentiality less than seriously. She would have to do some digging into who could have talked.

“You know that even if I had, I couldn’t tell you. Where did you even hear that?” Astoria wanted to know.

Daphne shrugged. “A friend. Word travels quickly in the pure-blood community. And someone saw you leave Malfoy Manor the other day, so I’m pretty sure that you’re his healer.”

“If you already know, then why ask?” Astoria spat in return. “You know damn well I don’t talk about my patients, whether it’s Draco Malfoy or anyone else.

Finally, her sister backed off. “Fine, no need to have a go at me,” Daphne replied and raised her hands in a placatory gesture.

Astoria sighed. “I’m sorry, okay? I just… I’ve been tired all week and the last thing I want when I get home is to talk about my work. Or men. Can’t we talk about something else for a change?”

As sisters, they had never really found a way to connect. It wasn’t as if they had a bad relationship, they got along just fine most of the time apart from the usual squabble between siblings, but there had never been an actual bond between them. Maybe it was because, as people, Astoria and Daphne were as different as two sisters could be and with their personalities worlds apart, they had never been able to actually build a bridge. At some point, they had just given up trying and there were moments when Astoria regretted that. Maybe Daphne did, too.

“I’m thinking of getting a cat,” Daphne admitted, smiling lightly. “How’s that for a topic change?”

Astoria laughed. She tried to picture her sister with a cat and failed miserably. “Okay, let’s talk about men again because I’m not seeing you as a crazy cat lady.”

Her sister considered it. “Yeah,” she finally agreed. “Me neither, to be honest.”

Astoria seized the moment they weren’t squabbling or arguing to ask the question she had been meaning to ask every since she arrived at home. “Listen, I know you have this great recipe for this stimulating tincture. I think I need that right now. I’ve got some patient files to go over tonight.”

For the first time since she had entered her room unannounced, Daphne’s face took on a serious expression. “You’ve been tired a lot lately. Are you feeling okay, Tori?”

She nodded. “I could do with a holiday,” Astoria admitted. “But that’s not really an option right now, so I’ll take the next best thing.”

“I always keep a stock in the kitchen cupboard. Help yourself to anything you need,” she said and rose to her feet again. “Well, I’ll let you rest while I go to my own room and find a suitable outfit for my date with Blaise.”

Astoria leaned back and closed her eyes, feeling more relaxed already at the prospect of peace and quiet. “Let me know when you found something so I can judge.”

* * *

The combined effect of the sandwich, a short nap and Daphne’s potions were exactly what Astoria had needed to feel better. She had been working tirelessly even before Draco’s arrival at St. Mungo’s, so it was no surprise that the lack of rest had resulted in a constant state of exhaustion, but she was too much of a professional to stop now and leave a patient to fend for himself. Once Draco was feeling a little better, she would take a holiday, maybe even go away for a couple of days, but right now, she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Her father’s Pensieve was sitting on a pedestal at the back of his office, waiting for her to use it, and as Astoria stepped closer, she thought she could feel the gravity of the memories even while the vial was still in her hand. She had never particularly enjoyed diving into the memories of her patients, although she knew that she had to in order to understand what they had experienced during the war. Talking about it was one thing, but in retelling, in recounting, the story always changed, people always omitted facts to make themselves appear in a better light, to cover up fears or to hide crimes. A memory didn’t lie. A memory was always true and honest and that had always frightened her a little. Astoria could only imagine what it must have been like for Draco during the war and still, she found it difficult to reconcile the boy in the Slytherin common room with the 23-year-old man in the room at St. Mungo’s. The answer to all of her questions was right there in her hand and for the first time, Astoria wasn’t sure whether she wanted to know.

She had had no problem with any other patient before, scared as she may have been of what the memories contained, but Draco Malfoy was different simply because she had known him since her childhood. They had never been close, but the pure fact that they were both Slytherins, that they had breathed the same air in the common room, that she had watched him mock Harry Potter and kiss Pansy Parkinson, that she had once hidden behind a curtain for an hour just so he would never find out that she had seen him cry, made it difficult for her. Astoria had promised that seeing his memories would not change what she thought of him, how she looked at him, but now she knew that it had been foolish of her to make that promise. She was about to know everything there was to know about Draco Malfoy and the moment she was about to pour his memory into the Pensieve was the moment she realised she didn’t want to know.

Or, at least, she didn’t want to find out like this.

And that was how Draco was different from all of her other patients. She knew and didn’t know him at the same time. Even though she lacked the details, she had seen enough of him to get a feeling of who he was and whenever she had made an assumption about him, however bold, Draco had never denied it. In fact, right now, as Daphne’s stimulating tincture unfogged her brain, Astoria was perfectly sure that Draco wasn’t even in need of her therapy. What he needed most was someone who believed in him and as his healer, she could certainly do that.  
Astoria had never been one for rash, haphazard actions, but as she looked at the vial in her hand, she knew that there was only one thing to do. Before she could change her mind, she smashed it on the ground and watched the silvery swirls evaporate into thin air. Draco’s memories were entirely his own and would remain that way. His gesture of handing them over, his willingness to share what he had witnessed in the war, were enough for Astoria.

Feeling wide awake and weirdly on edge thanks to her sister’s potion, Astoria turned around on her heels and made her way downstairs to join her family. For the first time in weeks, she felt fully alive and full of energy and in her head, she was beginning to make a list of all the things she could use this newfound motivation on. She was already halfway down the stairs when the feeling suddenly turned and hit her with a wave of nausea. The potion that had invigorated her was starting to spiral out of control inside her veins, turning the stairs into jelly and making the world around her spin rapidly. Astoria reached for the bannister, missed and tumbled down into a big, black hole.


	13. Chapter 13

Draco’s mood deteriorated rapidly over the course of the day. After breakfast, he had sat in one of the armchairs, both anticipating and dreading Astoria’s return. Anticipating it because there was hardly anything to do except to read the books the room had provided him with and he wasn’t exactly keen on venturing outside the protection of this little sanctuary because outside, everyone would recognise him as a Death Eater. Dreading it because he was afraid of what she had seen in his memories and he wasn’t sure how she would react to it. By the time a nurse arrived with his lunch, Draco was positively nervous. He hadn’t heard a word from Astoria or any other healers yet, so every time he had read a few pages, he got up and paced the room. Back and forth he went from the wardrobe to the window that overlooked a little park and, beyond that, the skyline of Muggle London. When the same nurse brought him tea and two shortbread biscuits, he barely paid attention to it. Surely, if her plans had changed, Astoria would have let him know? No. When dinner arrived and he still hadn’t heard from her, Draco knew that his memories had driven her away for good.

In the evening, he sat by the window, watching the rain pelt against his window while a silly spellbook lay on his lap, but he didn’t have the heart to practice any of the incantations now. Unable to sleep, unable to read, Draco stared at the rain and willed himself to come to terms with the fact that, once again, he had messed it all up. Astoria was the first person who had been nice to him regardless of his past and even though he had never been under the illusion that she acted out of more than professional kindness, the fact that his memories had scared her away despite her promise stung more than a little.

A clock ticked in the background, reminding him that it was almost time for a nurse to come and tell everyone to sleep, when there was a gentle knock on the door of his room. Draco turned his head and frowned. No one had actually bothered with polite announcements so far.

“Come in!” Draco called and almost regretted it instantly. What if the hospital had disregarded his wishes and let a visitor inside? Draco knew that, at some point, he would have to talk to his mother and father, but no one said it had to be right now.

Yet the head that appeared in the crack of the door didn’t belong to either Lucius or Narcissa Malfoy. Even against the blinding light of the corridor, Draco recognised Astoria’s dark curls and a smile spread across his face before she had even said a thing. She had returned and that was all that mattered now.

“Are you still up?” she asked carefully.

“Yes,” Draco replied and quickly straightened his back in his seat.

Astoria walked in and closed the door behind her. Even though the room’s light was soft and low, Draco noticed that she wasn’t wearing the white robes of a healer, but had instead opted for a plain, black travelling cloak. Her loose hair, too, indicated that she hadn’t stopped by for a professional visit and it left him more confused than reassured. She crossed the room quietly, hardly making a sound at all, and sat in the opposite chair without waiting for an invitation. There was something different about Astoria tonight, something almost unsettling.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop by earlier,” she said before he had a chance to ask. “But I’m not exactly working right now.”

“Is everything okay?” Draco asked, surprising himself with the worry that shone through his voice.

A soft laugh escaped her lips. “Yes, it will be,” Astoria replied with a smile. “It’s just that, for a healer, I preach about a healthy way of living a lot while being quite bad at that myself. Lack of sleep, no proper meals, overexerted myself a little. I had a reaction to my sister’s potion and almost ended up at St. Mungo’s myself, so I’m officially on leave now.”

Draco raised his eyebrows at her, feeling a mixture of shock and confusion and worry. A couple of questions floated through his mind, but what came out of his mouth was not exactly what he had intended her to hear. “Then how come you’re here right now?” he asked and instantly realised that it was probably a rude thing to say, so he tried to save it. “I mean, shouldn’t you be… resting?”

Astoria glanced towards the door and he, too, had heard the nurse outside, making her rounds. Before he knew what was happening, Astoria had lifted her wand and pointed it at the door. Whatever she had done, it made the nurse shuffle past his room. Then, she reached into the inside pockets of her travelling cloak and, to his surprise, pulled out two bottles of Butterbeer.

“Let’s just say I’m definitely not here in the capacity as a healer,” she said with a smirk, uncorked the bottles with her wand and handed one of them over to Draco.

He took it with a smile, for a moment just breathing in the familiar scent of the beverage. The last time he had had one must have been on a trip to Hogsmeade and he hadn’t even realised how much he had missed the taste. “I haven’t had one of those in years,” he said more to himself than to Astoria.

“You’re welcome,” she said before she took a sip from her bottle.

Draco looked back up and watched her for a moment. Now that she had told him her story, Draco could see the exhaustion on her face even in the dim light, but she didn’t look nearly as bad as he had in the previous weeks. “I thought you wouldn’t come back. I thought my memories had made you run for the hills, to be honest,” he admitted sheepishly before looking away again. He didn’t want to see the look on her face when she told him about her reaction to the memories. Instead, he sipped the Butterbeer, just enjoying the taste for a moment.

“About that,” she began and something in her voice made him look back up regardless of his intentions. He glanced at her just in time to see Astoria bite down on her own lip. “I never watched them. I kind of smashed the vial. Sorry.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Is the Butterbeer a way of asking me to give them to you again?”

“No,” Astoria said, sounding strangely determined, “I meant that I smashed the vial on purpose.”

Now he was really confused and by the looks of it, he wasn’t the only one because Astoria seemed to be a little lost for words. He watched her open and close her mouth multiple times before she finally found the right ones.

“I don’t want to know every detail of everything you saw or did during the war. And I also can’t be your healer anymore. I’ve done this before, I’ve helped people recover after the war, but I can’t do it with you. I _know_ you, I’ve watched you around Hogwarts, and that’s why I can never be as impartial as I should be. I watched you taunt Harry Potter and make out with Pansy Parkinson while you should have been studying. Do you know I once hid behind a curtain in the Slytherin common room for a whole hour during my fourth year? It was late at night and you thought you were alone, so you cried to yourself and I just stood there in my hiding place, wondering what on earth could scare the high and mighty Draco Malfoy. Your history overlaps with my history and that’s why I can’t help you the way I helped the others,” Astoria blurted out, the words rushing out of her mouth as if she had been practising them all day.

Draco just sat there, clinging to every word she said while his heart slowly sank into his boots. A part of him was _surprised_ that he felt surprised by this even though he should have seen it coming one way or another.

“So you’re saying I need to find a different healer?” he asked just to be sure he hadn’t misunderstood her well-rehearsed torrent of words.

To his own astonishment, Astoria shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t think a healer is what you need.”

Draco scoffed and for a moment, he considered the possibility that he had fallen asleep in the armchair and was making it all up in a strange dreamscape. “Then what _do_ I need?” he enquired impatiently.

Astoria shrugged and smiled. “A friend?” she asked carefully. “I can’t be your healer, but I can be that.”

Out of all the things she had said tonight, that was something Draco would have never seen coming. The ridiculous suggestion made him laugh. “I don’t think I’d be a very good friend. I don’t know how to _make_ friends. The ones I had at Hogwarts were the kids my father told me to hang out with. I tried to befriend Harry Potter when I first met him and you know how _that_ went. He hates me almost as much as he hated Voldemort.”

Her dark, inquisitive eyes watched him for an uncomfortably long moment. “I think you’d be better at it than you give yourself credit for. After all, this is a start, isn’t it? Sitting here, having a chat, sharing a Butterbeer. That’s sort of what friends do.”

Draco considered her offer for a while, but his lips wouldn’t quite say what his heart had felt ever since she had knocked back his father with her spell, which was that he would very much like to be Astoria’s friend. He just didn’t know how to admit it.

“And what would you suggest I do now? As my friend?” Draco asked instead. He tried not to, but his lips wouldn’t quite obey him and smiled at Astoria.

She smiled back. It was gentle and kind at first, but the longer he looked, the more mischievous it grew in Draco’s eyes. “See, as a healer I wouldn’t have been able to say this, but as your friend, I can tell you to get off your butt, stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something with your life.”

The sound that came out of Draco’s mouth was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Astoria said determinedly. “You’re sitting in your old manor, surrounded by your parents and all those ugly memories, doing nothing but wallow in self-pity. It’s no surprise you can’t get over the war because you’re essentially still living in it. There is a whole world outside of Malfoy Manor and not everyone in it is unkind. Yes, some will recognise you as a former Death Eater, some will care, others won’t. While you’ve been cooped up in your house, a large portion of the world has moved on. Do the same.”

“You’re suggesting I move out of Malfoy Manor? No Malfoy has ever done that before!” Draco exclaimed. The whole idea was absolutely ludicrous and yet, it held a strange appeal. Draco would love to see the look on his father’s face when he announced that he was moving out. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he would be locked in the dungeon or disowned.

Still, Astoria was smiling at him, almost beaming. “Be the first Malfoy to do it. Be brave,” she told him earnestly. “Or are you honestly telling me that you’re not feeling a lot better away from your father and those memories?”

The longer Draco considered her suggestion, the madder it seemed. And the more appealing. But he couldn’t seriously go through with it. His father would never let him.

“You don’t have to turn your back on them, Draco. When I told my parents that I was going to pursue a career as a healer, they called me mad. A good, pure-blood witch with a name like Greengrass was supposed to find an equally pure-blood husband to marry, not a job. It took years for them to get used to the idea that I am my own person, but they realised that it didn’t change anything about the fact that I am their daughter and I love them. Your father may not understand and he may not care much about your wellbeing, either, but don’t you think he’s been pulling your strings for a little too long? Let him take months or years or decades to accept it, but don’t let him stop you from living your life.”

Draco looked at her, considering every single word she had just said, and came to a conclusion. In fact, he had come to a conclusion minutes ago, he just hadn’t realised it. “You’re incredibly bold for someone who’s only been my friend for ten minutes, Greengrass,” he growled. “I don’t even know why I’m listening to you.”

He leaned back and emptied his Butterbeer, trying very hard to maintain his straight, grumpy face when, in fact, he felt like jumping with joy. Astoria had been right. Again. He didn’t need her as his healer, he needed her as a friend because there was no way he could have found the bravery to do what he was about to do without her setting the perfect example. And going against his father was absolutely brave, if not downright stupid.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day, Draco was discharged from St. Mungo’s right after breakfast according to Astoria’s recommendation. Standing in front of the hospital, in the middle of Muggle London, he realised he had exactly two options and it was a strange feeling. All of his life, decisions had been made for him, paths determined, directions chosen, and he had had little to no say in any of it. This one was entirely up to him. Draco could go back home to where his parents would no doubt greet him happily - or he could follow Astoria’s advice and finally start living for real. He hadn’t even noticed that he had already made his decision when his feet carried him off towards Diagon Alley.

After the war, life had slowly returned to the hidden street whereas the dark corners of Knockturn Alley had seen a steady decline. Draco passed through the crowds, trying his hardest to blend in and not be noticed, but no one around him seemed to pay him any attention at all. Everyone else was busy chatting with their friends and neighbours or running from one colourful shop to the next. The place was bustling and a couple of mad wizards had even seized the opportunity to soak up the warm rays of a low autumn sun in front of Fortescue’s ice cream parlour. Draco’s heart sank a little when he remembered the fate that had befallen the late owner and the urge to run back home came over him for the first time since he had left the hospital. He had no place among these people, but he wanted to, so Draco racked up all the courage he could muster and followed a subtle “To Rent” sign right into the building next to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. If he was going to start over, he might as well dive right in.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy dropped a precious cup filled with tea that fell to the floor and shattered before she ran towards the door and flung her arms around him in a tight embrace. Over her shoulder, Draco watched his father rise to his feet and stare at him in disbelief.

“Thank Merlin, you’re home!” His mother uttered an audible sigh of relief into his ear, still hugging him tightly. “Your father and I have been so worried!”

After what seemed like an eternity, she released him from the embrace and looked right at him. At first, he saw the usual worry in her eyes, but she must have noticed that his condition had improved because her face quickly turned into a smile. “We’re so glad that you’re back,” she said, beaming at him. It only took her a few seconds before the first tears were visible in her eyes. “Those stupid healers, they wouldn’t let us see you. We’ve been sending multiple owls a day, but they still didn’t let us in. Your father pulled all the strings he could, but-”

“Mother, I’m sorry,” Draco said, cutting her sentence short. “I didn’t want to see anyone. I needed a bit of time to myself.”

A look of confusion crossed over his mother’s face and even his father, who still hadn’t said a word, stepped closer. Draco knew that there was never going to be a good moment to say what he had come to say, that, no matter how he did it, there was no way his parents were going to take the news well. He just had to get it over with.

“Can we talk?”

Narcissa’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you alright, Draco? If the hospital has been treating you badly, then-”

“I’m fine,” Draco said, interrupting her once again. “I just… have something to say.”

His father straightened his back and cleared his throat before gesturing towards him. “Well, Draco, why don’t you say it, then?” he prompted him.

His father’s cold voice almost made him reconsider, but he knew that there was no way around it. If he didn’t get out of this house now, he never would and nothing would change. This was his one chance of regaining control over his own life.

“I’m moving out,” Draco announced, forcing the words out of his mouth before the courage left him. Then, once he had said them, the rest just followed in a torrent. Everything he had held in for the past few years, everything his brief stay at St. Mungo’s had made him realise, it all came out in an instant. For the first time in his life, Draco was honest with his parents. “I haven’t been feeling well lately and I think the only way for me to get better is to put some distance between myself and… this. You, the house, everything that happened here. I felt better at St. Mungo’s, I was able to perform magic without a problem, I think I’d be better off somewhere else for a while before I can think about coming back here.”

His mother sank down into the nearest chair, a look of shock on her face. Meanwhile, his father just glared at him, looking as if he was ready to shout.

“Don’t try to change my mind,” Draco added, putting as much determination into his words as he could muster. “I’m going to move into a flat in Diagon Alley. I’ve already arranged everything.”

Finally, his father’s stoic stance broke. “ _Live in Diagon Alley_?” he spat. “You’d rather live like a filthy half-blood than here, your home?!”

“This isn’t _living_ , father!” Draco shouted back at him. Even though it was a terrifying thing to do, even though defying his father scared him more than anything, Draco knew he had to. Thinking of Astoria and how she had bested Lucius Malfoy gave him the strength he needed. “I am miserable here! I can’t do what you’re doing, sitting around, doing nothing, walking through these rooms as if nothing ever happened here. I need to get out! I can’t be surrounded by all those memories anymore!”

“Draco,” his mother uttered softly, her big eyes staring at him, asking for pity, asking him to stay.

“I’m sorry, mother,” he said quietly. “I just can’t stay.”

Suddenly, Lucius scoffed. “Oh, I see,” he hissed. “This isn’t really you talking, Draco. That _healer_ put you up to this. That Greengrass woman with her mad ideas about Muggle inflictions and her talk about mental health. I’ve been saying for years that the Greengrass family is going to the dogs and this is the proof. I knew they had lost their touch when they refused to pick a side during the war and-”

“Think about it what you want, father,” Draco replied, the most recent attack on Astoria only stoking his conviction. “But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s right. I feel better when I’m not here and nothing you say about Astoria makes it any less true.”

Knowing that there was no way he was ever going to convince his parents, Draco turned around on his heels and made his way towards the stairs.

“I’ll be in my room, packing,” he called after them and darted upstairs.

His room was exactly as he had left it, still dark and oppressive despite its size and as soon as he had stepped inside, Draco knew that he had made the right decision. It was a new, powerful feeling to finally take matters into his own hands and do something that was entirely his. His parents could shout or cry as much as they wanted, they were never going to stop him from living his life again. No more Malfoy Manor, no more Dark Arts, no more shadows of Voldemort stalking the corridors at night. Only now, Draco could see what Astoria had been trying to tell him right from the start. He couldn’t remove his Dark Mark and now, he doubted that removing it would have made a difference at all, but he could learn to live with it. Outgrow it. Rise above it. And he had just taken the first step.

With a flick of his wand, the large suitcase he had last used for his sixth year at Hogwarts came flying out of his wardrobe, scattering dust all over his room in the process. Draco had meant to start packing immediately, but as he cast the spell, he had already set something in motion that could no longer be stopped. For a moment, he just stood there, in the middle of his room, and watched the sheer power of this single, simple spell with a mixture of awe and disbelief. All of his drawers opened at once, sending books, appliances and trinkets flying through the air. His clothes fluttered from the wardrobe, folded themselves into a neat stack mid-air, and settled in his suitcase. Draco’s eyes wandered from one object to the next, wondering when he had gained the strength to cast magic as strong as this, and smiled.

“Draco?”

His mother’s voice made him turn around and he noticed Narcissa Malfoy standing in the door frame, her mouth agape, completely bewildered by the wild commotion of flying objects.

“Are you doing this?!” she demanded to know. Despite her fear, there was a hint of pride in her voice that he couldn’t help but notice.

As soon as the objects had all settled in his suitcase and the lid had closed with a heavy thud, Draco dared to smile at her and nodded.

“Yes,” he replied simply. “St. Mungo’s helped me. You were right. I did have trouble casting spells before, but I’m better now.”

His mother didn’t reply immediately. Instead, her eyes remained fixed on him for an agonisingly long moment, leaving Draco to wonder what on earth she was going to say next.

“You look better,” she admitted, but when she continued, his mother shattered his brief whiff of hope that she was going to accept his decision. “But do you really think abandoning your family is the right choice? After everything we’ve been through?”

Draco sighed heavily. “I’m not abandoning you, Mother. And I’m not leaving forever. Malfoy Manor is my home and I will be back, but I just can’t stay when even the colour of the tapestries reminds me of the war.”

Just like his father had done earlier, Narcissa blew the air out of her nostrils, scoffing in contempt. “Your father was right about that healer. She put some wild ideas in your head. I don’t know what she’s after, but I don’t trust her and neither should you. Did you know she attacked your father at the hospital?”

Draco glowered at his mother in response. “I was awake,” he confirmed harshly. “So I know that it was Father who attacked her first.”

Without sparing his mother another glance, Draco turned around and reached for his suitcase, lifting it off the bed. It was time to leave.

“Her family is cursed,” Narcissa Malfoy called after him.

One last time, Draco turned around and stared at his mother. He was about to ask, but his mother continued as soon as she had made sure he was listening.

“I don’t know how or why, but the rumour has been going around for decades. Be careful,” she warned him. “Who knows what damage she could inflict on you.”

Draco shook his head and headed towards the door, not even surprised by the lengths his parents would go to to keep him here. But it was never going to work again.


	15. Chapter 15

Draco’s flat in Diagon Alley was a small fraction of the size of Malfoy Manor, yet it seemed to allow a lot more room to breathe. He had chosen it on a whim, rented it after a brief tour through the rooms without sparing it much thought when his only goal had been to find a place, any place to live. Now, after he had finished settling in, Draco felt even more reassured that he had made the right choice.

The flat was nothing like his home and maybe that was the appeal of it, but Draco could actually see himself get comfortable here. Even though it wasn’t a big place, even though Draco was used to a lot more comforts, with a bit of magic, the flat had become quite cosy. A short corridor led straight into the one, big room that held the lounge, the kitchen in the back and, slightly elevated and accessible by a few steps, a place for his bed. Behind that, a door led to the small bathroom. It wasn’t much, but it was his own. The brick walls gave the flat an air of unfinishedness which served him quite well and reminded him that it wasn’t a permanent situation and merely the first step of a new journey. Yet what Draco loved most about this place was the roof - or the fact that half of it was made of glass which extended halfway down the wall and gave him an excellent view across the skyline of Muggle London while remaining invisible to everyone out there. Neither in the Slytherin common room nor in his own home had he experienced so much light. He took it as a good sign.

A strange and yet familiar _plop_ suddenly startled him and Draco turned on the spot, drawing his wand to point it at the intruder, only to lower it immediately upon realising who had come to visit him.

“You should really put him some protection spells,” Astoria said with a smile. It was strange to see her without her white robes, but Draco couldn’t deny that darker colours suited her just as well. He also couldn’t help but notice the potted plant she was holding in her hands and it only added to his confusion. “I got your owl. Thought I’d stop by and have a look at your new place. I’m glad you’ve taken my advice.”

Draco frowned back at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting? I mean, you said you were ill.”

“No, I said I needed a break from work,” she corrected him instantly and held the plant out for him to take. “Here, something for your flat. But know that if it dies, I’ll take it very personally.”

Draco didn’t know what to say and simply took the plant from her hands, admiring it for a moment. It wasn’t something he had come across in Herbology lessons, so he doubted it possessed magical or medicinal properties and merely served as decoration. Then his eyes wandered back towards Astoria who had ventured deeper into his new flat and begun to examine the place. Even though he had sent her an owl to inform her of his new address, Draco hadn’t expected her to show up immediately.

“You were right. For a healer you’re incredibly bad at taking care of yourself, Greengrass,” Draco said and then instantly rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. She had been nothing but nice to him and he still couldn’t respond in kind.

Astoria turned around, still smiling, and shrugged. “I swear, I’m fine. You’re no longer my patient, so technically, I’m not working,” she argued. Then, her face took on a more serious expression. “Besides, I wanted to know how your parents took it. From what I’ve seen of them, I’m guessing not well.”

“Well, better sit down cause this is going to be a longer conversation,” Draco suggested.

Once again, Astoria looked around and Draco followed her gaze before realising what he had said. Both began to chuckle.

“I’ll have to get some chairs,” he noted eventually and then lifted his wand to conjure two large pillows that plopped down right in front of the empty fireplace.

They sat on the floor, feet stretched out over the carpet, facing each other and Draco couldn’t help but think that it still felt a little strange. They had agreed to be friends, yes, and he was ready to admit that he was badly in need of one, but there were moments he still couldn’t believe that Astoria would actually choose to be near him when most other witches and wizards avoided former Death Eaters wherever possible. Whatever the reason, Draco had decided to trust her the moment he had taken her advice.

“Well?” she prompted him, looking at him expectantly. “What did they say?”

Draco shrugged. “Could have been better,” he admitted. “Also could have been worse. Father shouted, I shouted back. He blamed you. Mother was sad, probably worried, too, and also blamed you, saying your family was cursed.”

To his surprise, Astoria chuckled. “And what curse would that be?”

“She didn’t say. But I think she would have said anything to make me stay.”

“Do you regret it?” Astoria wanted to know.

Draco looked around the place. Despite Astoria’s presence, the room was quiet, but it was a whole different kind of quiet than had resided in Malfoy Manor. It was accompanied by a strange calmness, a tranquillity that he had rarely felt in his life. Throughout his entire life, Draco had never pictured himself moving out, always assuming that he would stay in the manor forever, that one day, his wife would move in with him, that their children would grow up there. It was the idea that his parents had planted in his head as tradition dictated and he had never questioned whether he actually wanted any of that. Now, he finally had a chance to figure it out.

“Absolutely not,” Draco replied eventually. When he looked back at Astoria, he couldn’t help but smile. It was strange how it came to him so naturally now when he was in her presence. “That was excellent advice, Greengrass.”

“My pleasure, _Malfoy_ , she said. “Though I do have a first name, you know. Never understood why Slytherins always referred to each other by their last name.”

“Cause the right family name was probably the only thing many of them had to show for it.”

Astoria nodded in agreement, but the mention of their past brought back another memory, one not quite as far away as their Hogwarts years. Draco opened his mouth, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it, he wasn’t sure how to.

“Yesterday at the hospital,” he began and broke off again.

“Yes?” Astoria enquired. “What about it?”

“Well, you said you once saw me in the common room at night-”

In response, she lowered her gaze. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. It must have been a very private moment. I never meant to spy on you that night. It’s just that… well, you were a prefect and I was… doing something I really wasn’t supposed to. So I hid.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “You weren’t breaking the rules, were you?” he said with a pretend tone of shock. “Greengrass, I’m appalled!”

At that, Astoria bit her lip. “My first boyfriend was in Ravenclaw, so we sometimes sneaked out at night.”

“I should report you. They’ll expel you retroactively,” he joked. Astoria laughed, but Draco quickly grew serious again. He remembered that night in the common room. He remembered what had made him cry. If Astoria had watched his memories, she would have known too, but since the vial was destroyed, the only way for her to know was for him to tell her. And a part of him wanted her to know. “That night you saw me cry in the common room was a really bad night for me.”

Astoria nodded calmly. “Your sixth year was when you became a Death Eater, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“There were rumours among the younger students after that year, many of them. Some said you were involved in Dumbledore’s death. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Draco said again.

Then, he told her everything. Every little detail. From the moment Voldemort had chosen him to take his father’s place to the moment after the battle when his family had left the ruined castle. Draco didn’t leave out a single detail, not even how he had hurt Katie Bell and Ron Weasley by accident, how he had helped the Death Eaters enter the school, how he had fought Harry Potter in the battle, how he had been saved by him when his friend had lost his life in the flames. He told her about everything that had happened at Malfoy Manor, everything he had done or witnessed. Every so often, Draco looked up to see her listen intently and she never looked surprised or shocked or horrified even though she couldn’t have known any of that. The details of his trial and acquittal had never been made public, so there was no way Astoria could have been prepared for the extent of his personal horror story. Yet he never once saw even a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Astoria merely sat there and listened without judging, that fire of kindness still burning vividly in her eyes, and it meant more than him than she could ever know.  
During his trial, Draco had told the Wizengamot the exact same story repeatedly, but this was different. Sitting in that chair in front of the judges, he had felt scared, terrified, sure that after it was over, he would never see the outside of a cell again. In Astoria’s presence, there was no fear and no need to pretend. He could admit how scared he had felt, how painful the Dark Mark had been, how stupid he had been as a boy without fear of being judged. Maybe it was even the first time in his life Draco could be himself and when his story was told and Astoria was still sitting there, he knew that she had meant every word. He had found a friend.

“Draco,” she said carefully once he had finished. Her eyebrows were raised ever so slightly, but the kindness in her expression hadn’t changed. “The past will never go away. It will never change. But as of now, your life can be whatever you want it to be.”

Draco nodded. And then made a decision. “I’m going to make dinner for you tomorrow. As a thank you.”

To his surprise, Astoria burst into laughter. “I’m sorry, what?” she asked in disbelief.

The heat rose into his cheeks and he felt himself blushing, but Draco wasn’t going to let that interfere with his plans. “Well, you said you wanted to be my friend. Friends are nice to each other, they invite each other over for meals. I’m trying to be nice here.”

Her hands wandered to her mouth to cover her laugh, but it still didn’t stop him from hearing. “Oh boy, you make nice look incredibly awkward.”

“I’m trying, okay?!” he defended himself, not entirely sure why his invitation seemed so amusing to her.

Finally, once Astoria had stopped laughing, she nodded. However, the amusement was still visible on her face. “Alright, I’ll come over for dinner tomorrow,” she agreed. “But for future reference, an invitation for dinner usually sounds less like an order and more, well, like an invitation.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Draco said and lowered his head again before Astoria saw him blush.

“Maybe get some chairs, too,” she suggested and he heard her smile without looking at her.

Draco sighed. Somehow, a weight had lifted off his shoulders after telling her his story and a part of him couldn’t help but think that, if she had stepped out of her hiding place that night in the Slytherin common room and become his friend then and there, maybe none of the rest would have happened at all. But she was right. Nothing could undo the past, but he finally had the power to change his future. Whatever it had in store for him, Draco found himself hoping that Astoria would be in it.


	16. Chapter 16

In his eagerness to show gratitude, Draco had neglected one rather important detail involving his plan of inviting Astoria for dinner. He had no idea how to cook.

“Dibly!” he called out in despair, hoping that his recent change of address hadn’t resulted in losing the elf’s obedience.

To his relief, the house-elf appeared mere seconds later with a loud _plop_ , smiling broadly at her master. “Young Master Malfoy!” she exclaimed happily. “Dibly is so glad to see Master looking well! Master’s parents have been very worried!”

Draco wasn’t entirely sure whether he was happy to see the elf’s relief or annoyed that his parents still seemed anxious about his current state of mind. Whatever it was, he was glad that Dibly still listened to him because he desperately needed her help right now. But first, there was something else he needed to take care of.

He walked over to the kitchen counter and retrieved a little parcel that he had placed right next to Astoria’s plant and then proceeded to approach Dibly with it.

“I just want to make it clear that this isn’t clothes, okay? You’re not being set free, but I thought I’d give you something nice. You saved my life, after all. Twice,” Draco said and handed the package over to the flabbergasted, reluctant elf.

Dibly stared at him, wide-eyed and her mouth agape, unable to say anything. Draco noticed a couple of tears forming in her eyes, but before she had a chance to start crying in earnest, he decided to go on.

“Also, I kind of need your help. Again,” Draco admitted. “I invited Astoria Greengrass over for dinner and, well, I can’t really cook. Can you make us something nice?”

The elf’s eyes grew even wider at the mention of the name. “Of course, Master Malfoy! Dibly can help! Dibly can cook whatever Master wants!” she answered excitedly and instantly shuffled towards the kitchen. Once she had arrived at the stove, however, Dibly stopped and glanced at Draco. “Ms Greengrass is very nice. She was kind to Dibly when she brought Master Malfoy to the hospital.”

Draco smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

* * *

Astoria had chosen a dark green dress for the occasion and Draco thought the Slytherin colours suited her better than anything else as she stood in his flat, looking around as if she had expected it to have changed since the previous day, but obviously couldn’t find anything new other than the table and chairs he had added.

“I’m glad you could come,” Draco said with a smile.

There was a hint of suspicion in Astoria’s glance even though she smiled back at him. “Well, your manners have improved somewhat. And you added appropriate furniture. Very nice.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I also made dinner which is going to get cold, so,” he replied and gestured towards the table that was already set, the table that Dibly had set before Disapparating back home.

Astoria stepped closer, but the suspicious expression never lifted even as she stepped closer to the served meal. Then, she spun around and smiled at him. “And will your house-elf come back to do the dishes, too, or is that something you can actually take care of by yourself?”

In response, Draco opened his mouth to deny it, but seeing the look of amusement on Astoria’s face and realising the fact that she had caught him, he couldn’t actually find a suitable excuse. He had merely tried to do something nice and he had failed horribly at even such a simple task.

“I’m a menace in the kitchen, too,” Astoria admitted with a shrug. “And we don’t even have a house-elf. My mother does the cooking, my father helps, occasionally. But whenever she tried to teach me, I almost set the stove on fire.”

Draco granted her a sheepish smile in return. “I mean, I was going to cook, but then I realised it would probably not be much of a thank you if I did. So I asked Dibly for help. The elf likes you, by the way, so I’m fairly sure she did her best with the food.”

“Good to know. Shall we eat, then?”

The food was excellent and for a moment, Draco thought the gift he had given to Dibly hadn’t nearly been enough, because the meal was by far the best his house-elf had ever served. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it just tasted better in freedom and good company, or whether Dibly had really made a special effort in preparing it. Over dinner, they talked about anything and everything. It felt strange, getting to know each other after deciding to have a go at being friends and not the other way around, but Astoria made it a little easier. Eventually, the meal was finished and they retreated back to the pillows on the carpet in front of a fireplace that now held a blazing fire.

“Snape _never_ liked me,” Astoria admitted, continuing their reminiscences about Hogwarts. “I set fire to my friend’s cauldron during the very first week.”

“What?!” Draco asked, laughing. “How in Merlin’s name did you manage that? The first-year potions are harmless.”

She huffed. “They are, unless you are as bad at potions as you are at cooking. I have no idea what I did, but nothing could put out the fire. Snape had to resort to some seriously complicated magic.”

“That’s almost impressive. Impressively bad.”

“I got the hang of basic potion-making when I started my training as a healer, but I wouldn’t trust me anywhere near something complicated.”

Draco leaned back and tried to picture a young Astoria setting the dungeons on fire. It was an amusing image inside his head.

“I wasn’t bad at potions, so I was lucky. Being in Snape’s bad books is… not something I’d wish on anyone. Except maybe Potter.”

Astoria’s head shot around and she looked at him intently. One side of her face was illuminated by the flames, the other lay in the shadows, but Draco could still make out the inquisitive look in her eyes. He hadn’t really paid attention to it at first, but the longer he spent in Astoria’s presence, the harder it was to deny that she had grown into a very beautiful woman. Not that she had been ugly during their Hogwarts years, but the difference of two years had somehow prevented him from paying a lot of attention to her.

“What is it with your animosity towards Harry Potter?” Astoria wanted to know. Her voice sounded neither judgmental nor reproachful. There was nothing but plain curiosity in it.

Draco looked back at her and, for a moment, he couldn’t even say. “I don’t know,” he admitted eventually. “As I’ve said, I tried to befriend him. That was before I even knew who he was. I was just an eleven-year-old boy trying to make a friend and failing at that. When he decided to hang out with Weasley and Granger instead-”

“It wounded your pride?”

“I suppose it did. I was a prick at school,” Draco said. It was no longer hard to admit anything in front of Astoria, especially because that was something she already knew. “I guess I wanted to make him pay for not being my friend. And then I wanted to make him pay for being the centre of everyone’s attention all the time. All the crap he got away with just because he was Harry Potter, that really pissed me off.”

To his surprise, Astoria laughed. “I bet it pissed off a lot of people. I heard a rumour that he and his friends brewed Polyjuice Potion in their second year and it went badly wrong and Hermione Granger got stuck as a cat for a week. They never got in trouble for that.”

Draco thought about it for a moment. The rumour was news to him, but he remembered a time in their second year, long before Hermione Granger had been attacked by the Basilisk, that she had spent some time in the hospital wing. Coincidentally, it was around the same time that Crabbe and Goyle had acted quite strangely, unable to remember a rather important conversation they had had.

“The little gits!” Draco spat when the realisation hit him. “Of course, they used Polyjuice Potion. They turned into Crabbe and Goyle to interrogate me!”

“They did _what_?

“Yes! They thought I knew who the Heir of Slytherin was, back when someone had opened that bloody Chamber of Secrets.”

Astoria continued to laugh, but the humour had left Draco at last. He felt angry that even after so many years, Harry Potter could still get the better of him. The next time he saw him, he vowed to give him a belated punch in the face for that stupid prank.

“Don’t you think it’s time to bury the hatchet?” she asked eventually as if she had read his thoughts again. Damn, Astoria already knew him too well.

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Astoria cut him off before he even got the chance to say anything.

“No, hear me out,” she said in earnest. “I think forgiving Harry and his friends could be a big step in the right direction for you. You may never be friends, but you could stop being enemies. All that resentment you’re still carrying around is only weighing you down and it’s another reminder of what happened between you during the war. Maybe, if you stopped thinking about Harry Potter with so much loathing, it would be easier for you to let go of the past.”

He considered her words and, as always, Astoria seemed a little too wise for her age. She must have learned a lot during her training and while he sort of hated being on the receiving end of her attempts to trick him into being nicer, he had also made the decision to trust her. After all, as soon as he had started to listen to her advice, things had only gotten better for him.

“Fine,” Draco hissed eventually. “I’ll try not to jinx Harry and his friends the next time I run into them, but only if they do the same.”

In response, Astoria smiled at him. “That’s a start.”

A sudden thought shot through his mind. Draco wasn’t sure where it had come from. Maybe it was the connection of Harry Potter’s new job as an Auror and Draco’s past, but wherever it had come from, it appeared with a start and it brought a gentle wave of nausea with it. How could he have forgotten about it until now?

“Astoria,” he began carefully, not even realising that he had called her by her name for the very first time, “I think I messed up.”

Sensing that their conversation had just taken another turn, Astoria sat up straight and looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

Unsure where to begin with this rather long, rather complicated story, Draco decided to tell it from the beginning. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come over his lips so easily. Looking at Astoria, Draco gathered his thoughts and inhaled deeply. He trusted her. It was going to be fine. “When you said there was a spell to remove the Dark Mark, I went looking for it,” he confessed.

“Going against my explicit instructions,” she added casually.

“I figured out that there was a group who still dealt with Dark Magic. They hide themselves, never meeting in the same spot twice, communicating thought enchanted coins. I tracked them down and asked them for the spell.”

Astoria said nothing, she merely cocked her eyebrows at him, waiting to hear him finish his story.

“The woman in charge said she would only trade it for a book from my father’s secret library. I made that deal. I gave it to her,” Draco admitted, feeling the nausea grow inside him. Back then, it had only felt wrong. Now, in hindsight, it seemed like a massive mistake.

“What was in that book?” she enquired carefully.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to know. I just gave it to them in exchange for the spell. That was the only thing I cared about at that point.”

Astoria considered her answer for a while and he could see the same thoughts he was having reflecting in her eyes. She, too, was calculating the magnitude of the damage he might have inflicted by giving away the book. She considered what could have been in it and the conclusion she came to was not a good one.

“We have to get it back,” Astoria announced eventually. “Or tell someone what’s going on so they can stop it.”

Draco scoffed. “And admit I made a deal with them? Admit that my father kept books about the Dark Arts? We’ll all be carted off to Azkaban before we can finish the sentence.”

“It’s the first option, then. We’ll get the book back before they can use it for anything bad.”

When Draco looked at her, he noticed a strange glimmer of joy in her eyes and it made him a little wary. “Greengrass, you’re not _excited_ about this, are you?”

“Maybe a little,” she replied, sounding defensive, “but how would you feel if everyone around you is constantly having adventures and you’re always the one being left out?!”

“In my experience, _adventure_ is rarely something good. When I was sixteen, I thought joining the Death Eaters was an adventure until they threatened to murder me and my entire family if I failed to murder my teacher.”

“This is different,” Astoria argued. “This time, we’re doing something good and decent by stealing from the bad guys. Plus, I’ve never had an adventure, so I’d rather gather my own experiences than live off second-hand ones.”

Draco groaned and rolled his eyes, utterly lost as to how the conversation had gone to where it was now. He had only confessed a mistake and, one moment later, he was in the middle of planning to steal from a group of very dangerous people.

“This is a really bad idea,” he reminded her. “Besides, the woman took my coin when she gave me that spell. I have no way of finding them now. This is not only dangerous, but also a lost cause.”

To his great annoyance, Astoria smiled at him. “Luckily, I’m an expert in dealing with lost causes. And I think this will be very beneficial for you. You can finally do some good. No redemption arc is complete without a good deed.”

“Until that good deed gets you killed,” Draco growled. Somehow, he would have to convince Astoria to let it go. But then again, he didn’t really know of another way he could get rid of his guilty conscience.


	17. Chapter 17

Waking up in his new flat was always accompanied by a brief moment of disorientation. There was the unfamiliar scent, though today, it still mingled with a hint of Astoria’s perfume, an abundance of sounds coming up from the street below, the light of a bright sky shining in through the ceiling, and the distinct lack of a home-made breakfast served by Dibly. Despite all of that, Draco woke up feeling something akin to contentment. Once again, Astoria had proven that she knew him better than he knew himself because, as it turned out, he was indeed happier away from him parents and the darkness that surrounded Malfoy Manor like a raincloud. However, she wasn’t entirely right about _everything_. Still lying in bed, Draco’s thoughts wandered back to last night’s conversation and the look of excitement in Astoria’s eyes when she had determined that they had to do something about the book he had traded for the nefarious spell. She was definitely wrong about that because they didn’t have to do anything about it. In fact, what they had to do was leave the matter well alone. The short moments he had spent with the secret society had been more than enough to tell him the matter was not something he should meddle with and somehow, he would have to convince Astoria to do the same. His days of dealing with the Dark Arts were over and he was not going to drag Astoria into this particular circle of hell. Not if he could avoid it. There had to be some way to change her mind.

Even during breakfast, Draco’s thoughts kept circling around the topic again and again, wondering how he could possibly combat Astoria’s excitement about the matter. He also wondered what unspeakable evil the group could accomplish with one simple spellbook, especially when they had told him magic was only to be used if everyone consented. Draco’s realised that his tea and breakfast didn’t taste nearly as good as they should have because his mind was still preoccupied. Once more, Astoria proved to be right because he was sure that he would find it easier to let go if he only knew what the book contained, why the woman had wanted it so much. He cursed under his breath and set the empty mug back down on the table, knowing that his newly acquired conscience wouldn’t let him rest until he knew.

Even though the Floo Network made it exceptionally easy to travel across the world, living right on Diagon Alley and only a couple of steps from Flourish & Blotts certainly had its advantages. Draco made his way through the street before he had even finished his breakfast, the collar of his cloak turned up high. That alone wouldn’t arouse anyone’s suspicion because the autumn air had turned cold quite quickly within the last few days, but Draco’s reasons were of a different nature. Although a few years had passed since the war, his and his father’s acquittal had been made quite public in the Prophet and every now and then he still caught people staring as if they could wish him into a cell at Azkaban simply by looking. Today, however, no one paid him even the least bit of attention as he walked into Flourish and Blotts, not even as he headed straight into the back where Draco knew the owner kept the few books about the Dark Arts that had survived the Ministry purge. He wouldn’t be able to find the book he had traded here, but maybe, Draco could find a mention of it somewhere that would tell him enough about its contents to be sure the secret society wasn’t up to anything too sinister.

“What are _you_ doing here?!”

Draco wasn’t entirely sure how long he had been browsing the shelves of the bookshop when an all too familiar voice tore him from his thoughts. He looked up from his book and wasn’t surprised to see the red hair and angry face of Ron Weasley glaring at him.

All of his instincts told him to attack, to retort with whatever rudeness came to his mind and fall back into being the Draco Malfoy he had been at school. The sight of Weasley tempted him greatly. Yet whether he liked it or not, Astoria had made an impact on him and she had so far proven to be right about everything. Maybe, it really was time to bury the hatched and not fall back into old ways, however tempting they were.

“I’m reading,” Draco replied simply and looked back down at the book in his hands. He could just ignore his old enemy. It was as easy as breathing.

That was until the book was rudely smacked out of his hands and fell to the floor. “The hell you are!” Weasley spat and went to pick up the book.

Draco tried to beat him to it, but the Auror training seemed to have increased Weasley’s reflexes. At least, Draco couldn’t remember him having them during their Quidditch games at school. It was Ron who won the race to the book.

“Give it back!” Draco demanded, but the redhead paid him no attention as he studied the cover and flicked through the contents.

Slowly, Weasley raised his head, but he was still glaring when he met Draco’s gaze. He desperately wanted to say the word, however hard it was.

“Please.”

Something changed in his expression, a brief whiff of confusion, but his features hardened again quickly. “Did Draco Malfoy just use the word _please_?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not looking for trouble, okay? I just want to read in peace. So, give it back.”

Ron Weasley hesitated and for a moment, Draco actually believed that he would cave, that he would return the book and be on his way, that they would part without causing a scene in the middle of a bookshop. Yet when Weasley stood up straight and crossed his arms in front of his chest, Draco realised it wasn’t going to happen.

“This is a book about Dark Magic,” he noted. “You’re meddling with the Dark Arts again. Besides, this is a shop, not a library. If you want to read, you pay, you don’t loiter in the back like someone who is up to no good.”

Draco inhaled deeply and found that his breath came out shakily. If only he hadn’t come here, then none of this would have happened. Weasley would have never spotted him and Draco could go back to living his life in peace. That was all he wanted, to be left alone because no matter how hard he tried, he could never shake his past. No matter what he did, Weasley and the rest of them would only ever see him as a Death Eater.

“Fine,” he spat eventually. “Keep the book. It’s useless to me anyway.”

He wasn’t sure what was happening, but the surprise encounter with Weasley had triggered something in him. Draco’s hands were tingling horribly, the fight or flight impulse raging through his body at light speed, causing his heart to accelerate to the point that he found himself gasping for breath. He didn’t want to fight, he needed to get out.

Draco tried to make his way past Ron, but the tall, young man stood in his path, stopping him with his wand pointed right at Draco’s chest.

“What?” Weasley scoffed. “Can’t find the forbidden spell you need? Has the Ministry taken away all your toys at last?”

“I’m not… I wasn’t…” Draco attempted to say, attempted to defend himself, but his mind just wouldn’t come up with the words that he needed to say. It was as if someone had sucked the air out of Flourish and Blotts, the heat rose to his head and the room around him began to spin. Draco couldn’t breathe. He just needed to get out. When he finally found his voice again, he realised that he was shouting. “Just let me go, okay?!”

“Oh no!” Weasley retorted instantly and raised his wand a little higher. “You’re coming with me. There’s a cell in Azkaban with your name on it. I don’t care what you’re planning, but you’re not getting away with it this time.”

Draco felt the bookshelves closing in on him, the walls growing closer and closer and he tried his best to breathe, but no matter what he did, it seemed like the air just wouldn’t reach his lungs. He didn’t want to fight, but he didn’t want to go to Azkaban either. He couldn’t.

He fumbled around his cloak until he found the pocket and reached into it, pulling out his wand. Even as he aimed it at Ron, Draco knew that it was no use. The redhead appeared blurred and shaky in front of him and there was no way he could muster up the power to cast even the simplest spell. In his mind, he willed himself to focus on a simple word, willed himself to Stun his opponent, but it wouldn’t work.

“Malfoy, what the hell is wrong with you?!” was the last thing he heard Weasley say before the spinning sensation tugged at his consciousness and the world went black. Draco closed his eyes and thought about Astoria and what she would think of him if she had seen him fail like that.

A sudden sense of cold and quietness came over him, but Draco didn’t dare to open his eyes. He gasped for breath, but it wasn’t enough. Knowing that he was at the end of his tether, Draco allowed his knees to give in and sank to the ground. To his surprise, he felt the strange softness of wet grass between his fingers and finally, he opened his eyes. The blurry outline of an old, unfamiliar cottage told him that the had escaped the bookshop after all. Wherever he was, he was safe.


	18. Chapter 18

Astoria had never actually realised how much her job at St. Mungo’s was draining her until she took a break. Now, she woke up in the morning not with residual exhaustion but an abundance of energy that she was free to spend on whatever she liked. Of course, she loved her job and she was going to return to it at some point, but after working for years without taking a break, she had desperately needed one.

Still, Astoria needed a project to focus on and last night, Draco Malfoy had provided her with the perfect opportunity. A smile spread across her face when she thought about the moments she had spent with him lately and she couldn’t even quite explain why. He had never paid her any attention at Hogwarts, he had been more than rude and ungrateful during their first interactions, but lately, she had been able to see the man he had desperately tried to hide for years. Underneath the rough exterior, underneath the pain and the memories of the war, Draco was funny, sensitive and nice, maybe even kind. The glimpses Astoria had seen were enough to tell her that she liked him. In fact, she had known from that moment in her fourth year that there was something about Draco Malfoy that was worth getting to know. It was only a matter of coaxing him to show it.

With a big yawn, Astoria rose from her bed and reached for her wand. Her pyjama vanished with a simple flick of her wand and it was replaced by a dress from her wardrobe, her hair untangled and a fresh, mint-like flavour filled her mouth. Now, she was ready to start the day with a nice cup of tea and-

“Astoria!” her father’s voice called her from downstairs. There was a strange hint of concern in it. “Look out of the window!”

Without having even the faintest clue as to what sight could await her there, Astoria rushed towards the window and her heart skipped a little beat when she saw him. There he was, kneeling on her front lawn and Astoria didn’t even wait to assess the situation further before she rushed downstairs to help him. Whatever had happened, whatever he had come here for, there was little doubt in her head that Draco needed help.

“Draco!” Astoria called out as soon as she had left the house. Rushing down the steps, she felt a brief whiff of dizziness, but she ignored it until she had reached him.

He looked up, but Draco’s eyes were so unfocused that she doubted he could see her, his breath came out ragged and heavy and he was clutching his chest. Carefully, she knelt down beside him placed her hands on his arms.

“Astoria,” he panted desperately. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Astoria couldn’t help but smile a little. Even that was something that she liked about him. Showing up on her front lawn before breakfast in the middle of a panic attack was just the kind of dramatic act that suited Draco.

“No, you’re not,” she replied in a calm voice. Her hands squeezed his shoulders gently as if she could pull him back by touching him. “You’re having a panic attack. You’ll be fine. It’ll be over in a bit. Just breathe with me.”

Draco reached out and placed his hands on her arms in return. Astoria inhaled deeply and he copied her. It took a few moments, but eventually, his breathing slowed and synched with her own. For a while, she just stayed with him in the cold, wet grass and watched the colour slowly return to his face.

That was when the guilt hit her. Maybe, she wasn’t as infallible as a healer as she had always thought, maybe, she had made the wrong call, allowed him to leave the hospital to soon. If he had stayed at St. Mungo’s, they would have helped him cope with situations just like this one. Leaving his parents’ manor to start a new life had been the right call, but it still didn’t make everything okay.

“Thank you,” Draco said eventually. “I’m sorry, I was-”

“Panicking?” Astoria finished his sentence. “It’s okay. I’m the one who should apologise. I’m a healer, I should have known this might happen and…”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. There was still time for apologies and blame and self-doubt, but right now, it wasn’t what Draco needed.

“Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.”

Draco didn’t hesitate to follow her invitation. In fact, he was on his feet before she was, extending his hand to help her up before letting her lead the way into the cottage. Yet, as they crossed the lawn, Draco’s eyes kept looking around with a sense of confusion that surprised her.

“What is it?” Astoria wanted to know.

“Nothing,” he mumbled and then turned to look at her. “I was just wondering how in Merlin’s name I got here.”

Now, it was up to her to look confused. “What do you mean? Didn’t you come here to see me?”

Draco stopped and looked around once more before his eyes settled on her. He seemed more baffled than she felt. “I was at Flourish and Blotts, trying to find information about Father’s book when Ron Weasley showed up. I… I wasn’t going to fight him, but he tried to arrest me and I pulled out my wand. I wanted to Stun him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do magic. I also couldn’t breathe and I thought I was going to faint, so I closed my eyes and… I woke up here.”

Astoria had a feeling that parts of the story were missing, but she could fill in the blanks by herself. In fact, the story was enough to make her feel flattered. “A panic attack like that messes with your magic, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she explained quietly. “It triggers your fight or flight response, the most basic instincts a person has. No one would be able to do magic like that, your instincts do it for you. And your instincts chose to flee instead of fight.”

_Your instincts brought you to me_ , she thought, but Astoria didn’t say it out loud, yet, for some strange reason, the thought tugged at her heart and she didn’t know how she felt about it. It was the weirdest sensation because Astoria _always_ knew what she felt, she was always in control and aware of what was happening in her head. But then again, before becoming his friend, Astoria had been his healer. His flight response had brought him to the one person who could help. That was all there was to it.

“Let’s go inside,” Astoria suggested once again. “My family was just about to have breakfast.”

Draco seemed on the verge of agreeing, but suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. “I can’t have breakfast with your family,” he argued instantly.

Ignoring his protests, Astoria reached for his wrist and gently pulled him along. “Yes, you can. They don’t bite.”

Just as she had suspected, her father and mother were already sitting in the dining room, but the breakfast still remained untouched as if they had been waiting for Astoria to join. Yet when she was about to enter the room, Draco pulled her aside once again.

“I can’t have breakfast with your family,” he repeated, his voice no more than a whisper. “This is a respectable family and I’m-”

“You’re no longer a Death Eater, Draco,” she reminded him. “My family doesn’t care about your past.”

Admittedly, it was a stretch. Astoria was fairly certain that her family wouldn’t be entirely thrilled to have Draco Malfoy join them for breakfast, but she didn’t care about that. And once they realised that he had changed, that his acquittal had been just, her family wouldn’t care about Draco’s past either.

He didn’t look entirely convinced and still seemed uncomfortable with the idea of joining them, but Astoria didn’t leave him a choice. With a gentle push, she shoved him towards the dining room and before he could bolt again, Astoria decided to take care of the introductions.

“Mother, Father,” she said and pointed at their guest. “This is Draco Malfoy, a friend, and he’ll be joining us for breakfast if that’s alright. Draco, this is my father, Aldrich Greengrass, and my mother, Eudora Greengrass.”

Draco, although still visibly uncomfortable, nodded in her parents’ direction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Astoria always speaks very highly of you.”

A blatant lie, but Astoria had to admit that it wasn’t the worst he could have done. Her parents still appeared a little taken aback, but the tension in the dining room lifted somewhat as her father pointed towards a chair and invited Draco to sit. She breathed a sigh of relief. It could only get less awkward from here.

“Please, sit down. It’s so rare for Astoria to invite her friends to our home.”

Draco offered her father a smile. “It was a rather spontaneous invitation. Otherwise, I would have worn a more appropriate suit for the occasion. I must apologise for the inconvenience.”

Astoria couldn’t contain it. She and her father burst into laughter at the same time. As sorry as she felt for Draco, to see him so polite in front of her parents, to show off his manners in such a way was the most ridiculous things he could have done. Draco looked around uncertainly, obviously unsure of what he had done wrong.

“I have no idea what you two are laughing about,” her mother said sternly. “At least this young man was taught proper manners. Something that certainly can’t be said about you two. Say what you will about his family, but at least he knows how to be polite.”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Astoria apologised quickly. “But we’re a lot less formal here.”

Her father was still laughing and barely managed to take a sip from his coffee while her mother poured a cup for Draco as well. Still, he looked utterly uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, Mr Greengrass-” he attempted to say, but her father cut him off.

“Please, call me Aldrich,” her father prompted him, still chuckling to himself. “Ah, your father was always a pompous arse.”

“Father!” Astoria scolded him. Maybe, it had been a bad idea to invite him to stay for breakfast.

However, to her surprise, Draco nodded. “I can’t deny that.”

Astoria watched helplessly as her father leaned across the table to have a proper look at Draco, who shied away from his gaze. “I can see the pomp rubbed off on you somewhat, but I can’t see my daughter being friends with an arse. You’re not an arse, Draco, are you?”

“Dad, please,” she interrupted immediately, her voice now stern. “I invited Draco as my guest.”

Still, Draco decided to answer. “I try not to be,” he admitted.

“Speaking of daughters,” Astoria threw in. “Where’s Daphne?”

This time, it was her mother who replied. “Sleeping in. I heard her come home rather late last night. If she’s not careful, she’s going to turn into an actual owl one of these days.”

The conversation died down a little as everyone was starting to eat. Astoria threw a careful glance at Draco, who looked at her in return over the rim of his cup. His eyes were pleading with her to help him, but no matter how awkward it was, Astoria was determined to sit this one out. If her parents behaved, it might show Draco that not everyone was prejudiced against him. If…

“How is your mother doing?” Eudora Greengrass asked him a short while later. “She and I used to be friends at Hogwarts, but I’m afraid we lost touch after she married your father. I haven’t seen her in years.”

Draco cleared his throat. “My parents, uh, they don’t go out much these days. But both are in good health.”

“Well, be sure to give her my best when you see her,” Astoria’s mother said.

“What about you, Draco?” Aldrich Greengrass wanted to know, shoving a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. “What do young people get up to these days? I mean, Astoria has been working at St. Mungo’s practically non-stop ever since she left Hogwarts and who knows what Daphne is up to most of the time. How do you pass the time? Interesting career? Hobbies?”

“I hope you don’t feel the need to give in to my husband’s interrogation,” her mother threw in before Astoria could. “His lack of manners is the reason we never get invited to dinner parties.”

“You really don’t need to answer. My father is just being nosy,” Astoria growled, throwing a dark look in her father’s direction - who ignored her completely.

Draco, however, surprised her by smiling earnestly for the first time.

“It’s fine, I, uh, I actually just moved out of my parents’ house,” Draco admitted. “My parents weren’t pleased, but I’m trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I haven’t really done anything since the war, but your daughter kindly told me to get off my butt.”

Aldrich Greengrass burst into laughter. “Ah, that sounds like her.”

“You mean that sounds like _your_ parenting,” her mother added, shaking her head slightly. “I certainly tried to raise my daughters to be polite.”

Astoria glanced around the table and even though it was now her turn to be embarrassed, Draco seemed a lot less so.

“Draco, are you interested in Quidditch at all?” her father wanted to know after a few moments had passed.

He nodded. “Well, of course!” he replied immediately.

“What do you think about the Falmouth Falcons?”

Astoria watched the conversation with curiosity while having no idea where it could possibly lead. Her knowledge of Quidditch was marginal at best.

Draco shrugged. “I think they’ve done pretty well for themselves lately. They lost their touch a few years back when they lost against the Cannons, but since they’ve replaced most of their players, I think they could go back to the top.”

Her father eyed Draco for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, his mouth turned into a smile. “I’ve got tickets to their game against the Tornados in two weeks and since my women couldn’t tell a Bludger from a Quaffle, how would you like to join me?”

Draco looked as baffled as Astoria felt and she watched his mouth fall open at the surprise invitation.

“I, uh, I don’t know,” he uttered, still completely flabbergasted.

Her father grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

* * *

Astoria walked Draco to the patch of grass behind the cottage’s protection barriers from where he could Disapparate, both of them quiet after the strange breakfast. She wondered whether she had pushed Draco a little too far and whether inviting him to stay for the meal had been a mistake. After all, just this morning, he had suffered a panic attack and meeting her parents couldn’t have been the nicest of experiences. Yet before she had come up with a decent way of opening the conversation, Draco began to laugh.

“What the hell happened in there?” he asked, the amusement and bewilderment audible in his voice.

Seeing him laugh lifted her spirits somewhat and Astoria allowed herself to laugh with him, shaking her head at the same time. “I have no idea, but I apologise for my parents.”

“You have absolutely nothing to apologise for,” he said sincerely. “I thought they were charming. Your dad especially.”

“Really?” Astoria stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him.

Draco came to a halt next to her and looked right into her face. He did seem more relaxed now than he had earlier. “Really,” he confirmed. “He’s something else, but at least now I know where you get it from.”

Astoria smiled at him in return, relieved that he wasn’t mad for the impromptu breakfast, relieved that he had had a decent time.

“Thank you,” he said after a while. His face had taken on a more serious expression now. “It’s been a while since I’ve… well, talked to people. Normal people. Is he really going to take me to that Quidditch game, though?”

She chuckled. “I think so, yes,” Astoria confirmed.

“Well, tell him I’m looking forward to that,” Draco said.

Then, all of a sudden, he leaned forward and Astoria didn’t even have the opportunity to realise what was happening when he planted a brief, soft kiss on her left cheek. The surprise of it caused her heart to jump inside her chest, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. In fact, Astoria had kind of enjoyed the brief sensation. It was as if his gratefulness had been palpable on her skin.

“Thank you, Greengrass,” Draco said once again, smiling. “I’ll see you around.”

Astoria grinned at him. “See you, _Malfoy_.”


	19. Chapter 19

It wasn’t until Draco arrived at his flat that he realised he and Astoria had never even talked about the book. Well, it wasn’t as if there actually was anything new to talk about. His little excursion to Flourish and Blotts hadn’t yielded any useful results. Here and there, Draco had found a mention of _A Secret History of Spells_ , but none had explained just what the book contained.

As he stepped deeper into his flat, Draco felt, for the first time, a sense of home in this new, still somewhat strange place and it welcomed him like a soft embrace after the events of this morning. It wasn’t even noon yet and Draco felt as if the day had been stretching on for weeks. His trip to Flourish and Blotts, encountering Ron, the panic attack, Astoria’s family - all of it seemed too unreal to be true. Regardless of it all, Draco didn’t feel unhappy. At last, after years of hiding away in Malfoy Manor, he finally seemed to be moving somewhere - wherever that may be.

A sudden flash of light made Draco turn around and, as his eyes fell on the fireplace, he watched it light up before the small silhouette of a woman began to take shape inside of it. He never even considered drawing his wand because the shape was too familiar to him to confuse it with anyone else and a few moments later, Narcissa Malfoy emerged from the fireplace, brushing the soot off her travelling cloak. Draco had expected many things, but certainly not this. Then again, this day appeared to be full of surprises.

“Hello, Mother,” Draco greeted her calmly, granting her a reluctant smile.

His mother’s eyes remained on him for an agonisingly long moment, watching him carefully before she allowed herself to smile at him in return. “Hello, Draco.”

He didn’t dare say anything else, instead, he watched as his mother’s eyes wandered across the room, examining the kitchen, the pillows in front of her feet, his bed. Eventually, they came to rest on him once more while Draco was awaiting her verdict. He was sure that she was going to ask him to come home.

“You could have bought yourself a house, you know? Our family name has lost its value, but our money still buys whatever you need.”

Draco stared back at her, not entirely sure what she was saying. “I don’t want a house,” he said simply. “I just don’t want to hide anymore.”

Slowly, Narcissa nodded. She nodded as if she understood.

“You did the right thing,” she said eventually, surprising not only Draco, but herself as well. At least, she seemed surprised by her own statement. “I’m sorry if I failed to show my support. The last thing I want is to lose you and for a moment, I believed I would if you left your home. I thought you might never come back.”

“That was never my intention,” Draco replied immediately. “I was never going to leave forever, but I can’t be like Father. I can’t keep hiding within your walls and wait out my days until I die. You said so yourself. You told me to go out and live. I’m trying to do that.”

She nodded once again. “I worry about your father, too,” Narcissa admitted. “He-”

Whatever Narcissa Malfoy meant to say, the words got stuck in her throat.

“I know he’s not well,” Draco finished his sentence. “But he brought it upon himself and only he can find his way to deal with it. I have to find mine.”

His mother opened her mouth, but she closed it again as if she had changed her mind about whatever it was she was going to say. Instead, she began to smile again. “I see you’ve settled in quite nicely,” Narcissa remarked, nodding towards the kitchen. “You even got a plant.”

Draco followed her eyes towards the little patch of green on the kitchen table and once he realised that a small, white blossom had begun to bloom among the leaves, he smiled, too. “The plant was a gift from Astoria,” he explained. Then, before he could stop himself, the smile turned into a broad grin. “I met her family this morning, over breakfast. Her mother Eudora said to give you her best. And her father invited me to see a Quidditch match with him in two weeks.”

When his mother exhaled sharply, her breath was audible in the otherwise quiet room. “You seem very fond of this girl,” she noted.

Draco nodded. There was no point in denying it, he had no reason to deny it. “Wherever I go, when people look at me, they see a former Death Eater. Astoria was the first person who only saw me. She doesn’t give a damn about what I did or who my family is, she just wanted to help. I think she’s the first real friend I ever made. I don’t care if you tell me she’s cursed or whatever, I won’t give up the only friend I ever had because of that.”

“I never said Astoria Greengrass was cursed,” Narcissa replied immediately. “I said it was a rumour about her family. I just want you to be careful. Not everyone has good intentions.”

“Not everyone has bad intentions, either.”

When his mother smiled again, it seemed a little forced. “I just want you to be happy, that’s all. Maybe-” she broke off and then somehow found the courage to continue. “Maybe we can repay the Greengrass’s kindness and have Astoria over for dinner some time.”

For a moment, Draco wasn’t entirely sure he had understood her correctly. Gawking at his mother, he just needed to be sure. “You’re inviting Astoria over for dinner? Even though Father tried to attack her and she practically kicked his butt for it?”

Narcissa Malfoy cleared her throat. “Maybe he did deserve that just a little,” she said.

When Draco began to chuckle, it didn’t take his mother long to join in. It was the first time he had seen her laugh in a very, very long time. Maybe, Astoria’s presence wasn’t just helping him, maybe, her presence could lift his mother’s spirits, too. As for his father, Draco didn’t think that anything or anyone could accomplish that.

“I’ll suggest it to Astoria. I’ll let you know what she says,” Draco said.

For once, things seemed to be actually going well for him.

* * *

Her father sat in the library when Astoria peered around the corner, a book in front of his nose and a steaming mug of tea in his right hand. For a moment, she wasn’t entirely sure if she had picked the right moment to talk to him, but it was obvious that he had heard her enter when he lowered the volume and smiled at her.

“You were never particularly good at sneaking up on people,” Aldrich Greengrass said with a chuckle. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you never actually managed to scare me as a kid.”

Astoria smiled and stepped inside. Despite the strange family breakfast, her father was in a good mood, so she was determined to use the opportunity to ask her question.

“What can I do for you?” he asked as if he had already read her thoughts. “Are you bored already? You’ve only been at home a few days.”

Still smiling, she shook her head. “No, I’m quite happy to be on leave,” Astoria replied truthfully and sank into the large wicker chair on the opposite end of the coffee table. “I just have a question.”

Astoria took a deep breath and let her gaze wander around the room for a while. As a child, the library had been her favourite room in the whole house. While the large windows allowed the place to be flooded with light and the sitting area had a marvellous view over the garden, the shelves had always provided her and Daphne with dark and dusty corners to play hide and seek in. And, of course, the large volumes had fascinated her even before she could read. Later on, Astoria had spent her holidays right there at the coffee table, pondering her Potions homework and secretly practising spells with her sister until their mother had caught up with them and scolded them for using magic outside of school. Yet the Trace had never quite stopped them from doing it, and no one had ever found out. It had been easy to get away with in a wizarding household.

“Well?” her father asked eventually and his voice brought her back from her trip to her childhood days. “Ask away.”

Astoria breathed in deeply. “There is a book which likely contains Dark Magic,” he explained. “I need to figure out what it contains, roughly. I don’t need the exact contents, just to get an idea of what it’s about. Have you ever heard of _A Secret History of Spells_?”

Aldrich Greengrass considered it for a moment. Her father worked for the Ministry, but the Dark Arts weren’t exactly his area of expertise and he had never been involved in the Ministry purge at all. It was a stretch, but it was her only way of helping Draco right now until they could come up with a plan to get his book back.

Eventually, her father shook his head. “I’ve never heard of it. We’ve got a couple of history books on the shelves, though, you might find a mention of it somewhere,” he said and nodded towards the back of the library.

Her heart sank. Astoria had feared as much, but she had hoped to avoid going through their extensive collection, especially since she had no idea where to start.

“Thanks, I’ll have a look.”

Yet her father’s eyes remained on her, watching her curiously. “Did Draco Malfoy get himself into trouble with the Dark Arts again?” he wanted to know. There was no accusation in his voice which came as a relief to her.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Astoria explained. “And it wasn’t his fault the last time, either.”

Aldrich Greengrass scoffed. “Never assumed it was. I know Lucius Malfoy and he’s always been a damn coward. Ruined his life and that of his family along with it,” he spat. “If anything, I feel sorry for the boy. Just don’t get yourself into trouble because of him. The Ministry is still watching that family and if they put even a toe out of line, they’ll be sent to Azkaban before they can say _Wingardium Leviosa_.

“That’s exactly what Draco is trying to avoid. He wants to do the right thing.”

Slowly, her father nodded. “Well, I can’t help you. I don’t know these books by heart, so you’ll have to look by yourself.”

“Still, thank you,” Astoria said earnestly. “And thank you for inviting him to the game with you. He doesn’t show it, but I think it means a lot to him. Most people won’t even look at him because of his family’s past.”

Finally, her father’s features softened. “Well, if my daughter is bringing home a boy for the first time, I’m hardly going to chase him away, am I?”

Astoria laughed. “It’s not like that,” she replied, chuckling. “Draco was my patient and now he’s my friend. That’s all.”

“You haven’t exactly brought home many friends, either, so I’m trying to be nice regardless,” her father determined. “And I agree with you. He looked like he could do with some normality. And what’s more normal that a nice, thrilling Quidditch match that might well decide the future of my favourite team?”

In response, Astoria rolled her eyes. Her father had passed on a lot of things to her, but his passion for Quidditch had never been one of those things. Nevertheless, she was still grateful that her father had decided to help Draco out.

Happy with the outcome of their conversation, Astoria began to make her way back to her room a short while later, determined to find a better moment to go through her family’s library in peace than right now. She had already made it halfway up the stairs when a yawning Daphne stepped into her path.

“Oi!” her sister called out. “Where are you running off to so early?”

“My room.” Astoria shrugged, then eyed her sister with a raised eyebrow. Daphne was still in her pyjamas, a robe carelessly thrown over her body. “Looks like you came home late last night. Did your date with Zabini go that well?”

Daphne scoffed. “As if,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “He completely lost it when he realised I was still in contact with some of my old friends from school. He left and I went to hang out with my friends instead.”

Another yawn came over her sister and Astoria watched, reserved, unsure of whether she actually wanted to know. “What kind of friends are you talking about?” she asked despite her better judgement.

Daphne shrugged. “Theo Nott was the name that pissed Zabini off the most. They got along at school, but something must have happened after.”

“Theodore Nott?!” Astoria blurted out. “How can you still be friends with Nott when-”

“When his father was a Death Eater?!” Daphne retorted, suddenly sounding angry. “That’s rich, coming from you. I heard about our breakfast guest, so don’t pretend to be shocked about Theo’s father.”

Astoria opened her mouth, but closed it again immediately because she knew Daphne was right. Without saying another word, she watched her sister descend the stairs and walk off towards the dining room where the breakfast leftovers were waiting for her. She knew she had no right to judge her sister on her friendship with Nott, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Even at school, there had always been something about the boy that made Astoria shiver. The mere thought about Nott still did.


	20. Chapter 20

_Hello Draco,_

_My parents are attending an event tonight and my sister has just left to go out with her friends. I don’t think they’ll be back before the small hours. Would you like to come over and help me browse through my father’s library? Maybe we’ll find something about_ A Secret History of Spells _that can help us figure out your secret society._

_Astoria_

Draco Apparated to the spot on Astoria’s front lawn, still clutching her letter in his hand. Before returning home to find an impatient owl sitting on his windowsill, he had walked through Diagon Alley, becoming braver and more confident with each step. No one around him paid him even the least bit of attention even though Draco was sure that some had recognised him. Maybe he had even hoped to run into Ron again just so he could prove to the idiot that he had changed. However, nothing whatsoever had happened. Then, once he had received Astoria’s invitation, he had rushed out once again, bought enough take-out food to feed an entire family from the nearest shop and Disapparated. This time, on purpose.

Draco hadn’t paid as much attention to Astoria’s family home the last time, not when he had been busy trying to remember how to breathe, but now that he stood in front of it, he could hardly deny its charm. It wasn’t nearly as big or impressive as Malfoy Manor, but in Draco’s eyes, that only worked in the house’s favour. The lovely two-story cottage stood surrounded by a natural garden and radiated a long history. From the sand-coloured stones, the tall windows, the thatched roof and the Boston ivy that climbed one side of the house, Draco could tell that Astoria’s childhood here had probably been a happy one. The cottage had nothing of the cold aloofness of Malfoy Manor, no neatly trimmed lawn that a child would get in trouble for running over. For a moment, Draco thought he could still see the spirits of two young girls playing among the trees, laughing gleefully as they tried to catch each other. Maybe, if he hadn’t been a stuck-up idiot, he could have gotten to know Astoria years ago.

“Are you going to stand there forever or will you come in at some point?!”

Astoria’s voice tore him out of his thoughts and the brief apparitions vanished. Draco looked up to see her standing in the doorframe, her smile visible even from afar. He set his feet into motion, approaching the cottage. Once he had reached her, Draco felt his heart leap. It was a strange sensation, one he had almost forgotten existed and it made him smile. He was happy, actually happy to see her again.

“Hi,” he greeted her, not knowing what else to say.

“Hey,” Astoria replied and opened the door a little wider so he could step inside before her eyes fell on the large paper bag he was carrying in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” he asked and lifted the bag. “This is dinner. There’s a new shop in Diagon Alley that sells this to take home.”

He opened the bag so Astoria could glance inside. The savoury scent of grilled chicken filled the air around them in an instant. “Oh, this is Muggle food. I’ve had that before. It’s amazing. Chicken wings and chips,” she hummed and closed her eyes to breathe the scent in deeply. “Hmmm, smells just like KFC.”

“What on earth is KFC?” Draco asked, confused as to what chicken had to do with Muggle food.

On their way inside, however, Astoria explained all about KFC and the American Muggle restaurant her father had taken her to as a child on a holiday in America. Knowing that they could hardly take the food into the library, Astoria led him into the lounge instead where they sat on the sofa and started eating their dinner. As soon as he had tasted it, Draco found himself chuckling.

“Okay, if this is Muggle food, it’s excellent. And Father would probably disown me if he knew I was eating it,” he said and took an even larger bite off the chicken wing.

“He has no idea what he’s missing,” Astoria replied with a grin before she swallowed a chip. Once she had finished chewing, she continued. “My family isn’t as anti-Muggle as everyone thinks. Sure, my mother isn’t exactly crazy about them, but my father is different. He’s curious and he thinks some of their inventions are pure genius. Two years ago, he bought a telly and my mother makes him hide it so no one knows they own _Muggle things_.

“What’s a telly?” Draco wanted to know.

In response, Astoria’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, right! You never took Muggle Studies, did you? They made that mandatory after the war. Watching telly is something like their favourite pastime.”

Draco watched as she pulled out her wand and waved it around the room. A square box appeared in front of them and he flinched when it suddenly came to life and flashing images appeared on its surface.

“ _Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine…_ ”

Draco stood up immediately and he was only vaguely aware of Astoria’s chuckling as he circled the strange device that had now begun to emit sounds as well as light. He examined it, trying to figure out how it might work, but the only solution he could come up with was _magic_.

“It’s a movie,” Astoria explained. “Some made-up story acted out and recorded for Muggle entertainment.”

Once he had finished circling the strange device, Draco walked back towards the sofa and sat down, sure that looking at the glowing front might wield some answers, but no sooner had he touched the sofa than the box went dark.

“What happened?” Draco asked immediately, pointing at the telly. Then, his eyes wandered towards the laughing Astoria. “Did I break it?”

Normally, Draco enjoyed her laughter very much. This time, however, the joke seemed to be on him.

“No,” she replied and Draco felt her reach behind his back. Astoria pulled out a black bar with countless buttons. “You just sat on the remote and turned it off.”

Draco was just about to ask her how a _remote_ worked, his curiosity about the Muggle device now genuinely sparked, but Astoria waved her wand once more and the device vanished from sight. He would have never guessed that some pure-blood families might be interested in Muggle contraptions and if they were, his father would have called them blood traitors, but seeing Astoria display her father’s interests so openly made him think that, maybe, his family had always been the one to get it slightly wrong.

“Enough of that,” Astoria said eventually. “I asked you here to do research, not to eat and watch telly.”

It was hard to argue with Astoria’s energy, so Draco complied and followed her into her family’s library. Once more, he realised that it seemed to be the complete opposite of the room that could be found at Malfoy Manor. The large windows illuminated the many bookshelves and a small, cosy sitting corner adorned with comfortable looking wicker chairs practically invited him to sit down with a good book. Whereas the Malfoy library smelled of old books and dust, Draco found a pleasant scent of lavender mingling with the bookish smell.

“We don’t have any books about the Dark Arts,” Astoria said, “but we might find something in the history books. Split up?”

Draco nodded and followed Astoria towards the shelves. When she vanished into an aisle, he decided to try the next one over. There was the first thing their families undoubtedly had in common and it was their habit of hoarding books. Just like the library in his own home, Astoria’s seemed to consist of volumes accumulated over centuries and handed down from generation to generation. Even when both of them were long gone, these books would still exist.

Scanning the shelves for suitable history books, Draco caught glimpses of Astoria’s dark hair between the gaps. Then, a larger gap among the books allowed him a perfect view of her pretty face. For a moment, he stood still and just watched her eyes wander over the spines, reading titles at an incredible speed - until she caught him.

“Do I look like a book to you?” she asked, chuckling. “I thought you wanted to figure this out, too?”

Draco ignored her and leaned a little closer. Yes, he wanted to know what the book contained and, maybe, he wanted to try and get it back. There was something about Astoria that made it incredibly hard to say no to her, to not be carried away by her energy and enthusiasm. From the moment they met, Draco had noticed the aura of strength and determination around her, but it had taken him a while to see the warmth and joy, too. The amalgamation of everything that made her Astoria just drew him in and her light illuminated even his dreary life.

“I do,” he confirmed. This time, Draco actually meant it. “And you were right. If it’s something bad, I have to get the book back.”

“Wrong,” she interrupted, still smiling. “ _We_ have to get it back. I’m not going to let you exclude me.”

“Fine,” he agreed grudgingly. “We have to get it back. Although I’d rather not put you in danger if I can help it.”

Through the gap, Draco watched her place her arms on her hips and glower at him. “I was Duelling Champion in my seventh year at Hogwarts, I took six N.E.W.T.s, I think I can take care of myself.”

“Six N.E.W.T.s? Blimey!” Draco exclaimed, genuinely impressed. He had always guessed that Astoria had done well for herself academically, but guessing and knowing were two completely different things. Knowing that he could have had that, too, if he had been brave enough to return to Hogwarts for his seventh year, suddenly made him feel extremely inadequate.

“However,” Astoria added, “studying Defence is not the same as actually living through the war. You have first-hand experience, you know how the Dark Arts work, what to expect. That’s an advantage I’ll never have.”

Draco didn’t know what to reply to that. He would have willingly given up this particular advantage if it meant he could look back on a normal life that didn’t involve torture and death. Meanwhile, Astoria went on to look at her family’s books, occasionally taking one from the shelf to skim it before discarding it again. All the while, Draco continued to watch her.

“What was it like, growing up here?” he found himself asking after a few minutes had passed.

Astoria looked up from her book and answered with a soft shrug. “It was good, I guess. My sister and I used to play in here as kids and father would pretend to chase us out. In that corner of there,” she said, nodding towards a small nook between the shelves, “I asked Daphne for advice on my very first crush when we were home for the Christmas holidays in my fourth year.”

“That boy from Ravenclaw?” Draco asked and suddenly felt the tiniest stab of jealousy. Not because he had become her boyfriend, but because he had seen her while Draco was entirely oblivious to her existence.

Astoria nodded. “He was sweet, at first. But Quidditch was always more important to him than I was. And seeing that I know next to nothing about the sport, that could never have worked out,” she explained with a chuckle. When she grew quiet again, Draco felt her inquisitive eyes on him once again. He knew that she was about to ask him something personal just by looking at her expression. “What broke up you and Pansy Parkinson?”

Draco snorted and the sound turned into a strangely bitter laugh. He hardly thought about Pansy at all anymore, the memories of her so entwined with the war that he couldn’t bear them. Maybe he had liked her once, but their relationship was never what it should have been. Instead of a teenage romance, Draco merely looked back at his desperate attempts to escape the darkness.

He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t quite find the words to admit to Astoria that he had never really loved Pansy, afraid of what she would think of him.

“What is it?” Astoria asked when he failed to speak.

“Pansy was… Merlin’s beard, I don’t even know what that was,” he said, cursing under his breath and lowering his eyes so Astoria couldn’t look at them. “I didn’t love her, not for a single moment. I know she loved me and I took advantage of that because I just wanted one thing in my life that was normal. I thought she could help me escape the mess I was in for just an hour or maybe even just a minute, but being with her always felt wrong. I thought Pansy would make me feel better, but she only made me feel worse.”

When Draco finally dared to look at her again, he found Astoria nodding as if she understood. For a small moment, it made him feel angry. “Don’t say you understand,” he hissed. “Don’t say it’s okay, because I know it’s not. I treated her like dirt and if I could take it back, I would, but it’s the same as the Mark on my arm. What I did is always going to be a part of me. I can’t undo or erase it. This is the person you chose to be friends with!”

To his surprise, Astoria’s eyebrows turned into a frown. “Why are you shouting at me?”

“I don’t know!” Draco replied angrily. Then, he realised what he was doing and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just that-”

“You think you’re not deserving of a normal life after what you’ve done?”

The anger left Draco as quickly as it had come over him when Astoria once more hit the nail on the head. Spending time in her presence made him feel eternally grateful, but also always afraid that he was going to lose it at any given moment.

“You do, Draco,” Astoria reassured him. “You do deserve it. And for the record, I wouldn’t have been friends with the prick you were at school, but I would have been friends with the boy I caught crying in the common room. Do you want to know why? Because he wasn’t pretending. That was the real you. _This_ is the real you. I want to be friends with the Draco who doesn’t deny that he is unhappy, the one who can admit he messed up, the one who laughs and always immediately looks surprised because he can’t believe he’s actually feeling happy, the one who offers to cook me dinner despite the fact that he can’t even boil an egg. There is goodness in you, Draco.”

Her words and the smile on her face suddenly tugged at his heart.

“I’ve only caught glimpses of it,” she said, “but I believe there is a lot more. You just need to let it show a little more often.”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Astoria lifted her index finger in a warning gesture.

“Just don’t ever mistake my kindness for weakness.”

To his own surprise, Draco laughed. “I’m not suicidal, Astoria.”

Finally, her face lit up with a smile once more. “That’s the spirit,” she said before her voice took on a more determined tone. “Now, back to business.”

With that, she pulled another book from the shelf and opened it, but Draco had a feeling that they would be stuck here for days if they didn’t increase their speed. Instead of reaching for a book, he pulled out his wand and closed his eyes, focusing very hard on what he wanted to find. He had no idea if it actually worked, no idea if he was capable of this kind of magic, but in Astoria’s presence, he was brave enough to try. If he was almost battered to death by books, he was sure that she would try her best to save him.

“Accio book!” Draco exclaimed and braced himself for the impact.

When he finally dared to look, Draco noticed that only a single book came flying towards him and, with the instincts of a Seeker, he caught it gracefully while Astoria came hurrying around the corner.

“What the hell, Draco?! Calling for a book in a library?! You could’ve been crushed to death!”

With a proud grin, Draco held up the book. “I focused on books about _A Secret History of Spells_ ,” he explained and carefully left out the part where he wasn’t sure that it actually worked that way.

Another flick of his wand opened the book and the pages started turning themselves over at increasing speed until the magic stopped. Draco lifted the book and began to read, all the while ignoring Astoria’s reproachful glance.

“For more information about _A Secret History of Spells_ ,” he said, reading from the little footnote, “see _Acheronian Magics_.”

With a sigh, Astoria’s shoulders dropped. Nevertheless, she raised her wand and tried. “Accio _Acheronian Magics_.”

Nothing happened.

“Well, that was unhelpful.”

“Not entirely,” Draco replied carefully. “I’ve seen that book before.”

Astoria’s head shot around and she looked at him with wide eyes. “Where? Your father’s library?”

Slowly, he shook his head and bit down on his lip. “It’s in the Hogwarts library. In the forbidden section. So, yeah, you were right. It was unhelpful.”

“Not exactly,” Astoria replied and a strange smirk appeared on her face. “We just have to pay our old school a little visit.”

Draco scoffed. “Yeah, right, cause they’ll just let us walk into the forbidden section to do some research on the Dark Arts.”

“Do you realise that the Hogwarts library is probably the only place where this book still exists? The Ministry purge destroyed books from all private libraries, but McGonagall wouldn’t let them touch the library at Hogwarts.”

“Except that we’re no longer students and even if we were, the forbidden section was always off-limits,” Draco argued.

“Says the boy who obviously sneaked in somehow,” Astoria replied, ignoring his protests. “Also, you never properly graduated, so you never got the speech about how former students are always welcome to come back if they need anything. And yes, McGonagall was talking about the library especially.”

“So you’re going to write to the headmistress and ask if you can have a look at books about the Dark Arts?”

Astoria smiled and nodded. “Precisely.”

“That’s completely mental,” he growled, but he knew better than to argue with her enthusiasm. He would just have to comfort her once the rejection letter from McGonagall arrived.


	21. Chapter 21

Hogsmeade was covered in a thick, white layer of frost, its crystals glistening in the icy November sunlight. Astoria breathed in deeply, loving how the cold air stung inside her lungs. Winter had always been her favourite season and winter had come early to the remote Scottish village. If they were lucky, they were going to see snow in a couple of weeks.

“I still can’t believe McGonagall agreed to this,” Draco muttered next to her as they made their way through the wizarding village. Astoria watched him pull up the collar of his travelling cloak, though she wasn’t sure whether it was because of the cold or because he didn’t want to be recognised. Maybe, it was a little bit of both. “She actually said we could go in the forbidden section of the library?!”

Astoria grinned proudly. “I was a good student,” she replied. “Of course, McGonagall agreed.”

“I was also a good student!” Draco argued. “That woman still never liked me.”

“Maybe that was because you were a prat.”

Draco uttered a sound that was somewhere between a growl and acknowledgement, but Astoria paid him no attention until they reached the edge of the village. High above their heads, Hogwarts loomed in all its glory, half-hidden in thick, icy fog. Astoria uttered a sigh of happiness at the sight of it. It was almost like coming home. Wondering whether Draco felt the same, she turned her head to look at him, but found an unreadable expression on his face. Draco stared up at Hogwarts with something that looked like a mixture of longing and fear.

“Last time I saw Hogwarts it was little more than a pile of rubble,” he said calmly. “I didn’t think I’d ever come back here.”

Astoria wasn’t entirely sure why she did it, but before she could think better of it, she reached out and felt for Draco’s hand under the heavy sleeve of his travelling cloak. Carefully, as if giving him the opportunity to pull back, her gentle fingers wrapped around his soft, warm hand.

“Merlin’s beard, Greengrass,” Draco uttered, but the amusement was audible in his voice. When he finally turned to look at her, he was smiling. “Your fingers are icicles.”

For a moment, they just stood there, grinning at each other. Maybe it was because of the proximity to Hogwarts, her old school, maybe it was the cold weather, maybe it was the fact that her heartbeat sped up just a little, but right here, right now, Astoria felt a little like a schoolgirl once again. It was as if the last few years had been erased from her mind and she just wanted to pull at Draco’s hand and run back to Hogwarts, to experience what it was like to be a carefree teenager once more with all its childish freedoms and reckless emotions.

“Shall we go?” she asked and Draco nodded.

* * *

“I don’t know how else I can make it plain to you, Ms Greengrass,” McGonagall stated loudly and firmly. “No. Absolutely not. Over my dead and rotten corpse will I let a former Death Eater into the forbidden section of the school library to study the Dark Arts.”

“But your letter-”

“Was directed at _you_ , not Mr Malfoy.” Her former teacher glared at her. “And if you were smart enough to omit the fact that Draco Malfoy would be joining you, you should have been smart enough to know that my answer would be no.”

“Let’s go,” Draco said and gave her hand a gentle tug. He hadn’t let go since they had locked hands at the foot of the mountain. “I told you I wasn’t welcome here.”

“No,” Astoria replied harshly and turned back towards Professor McGonagall. “In our graduation speech, you said all students would be welcome to come back anytime. _All students_. If that’s not the case, you should have said your favourite students are welcome to come back. Or that everyone who had never made a mistake was welcome to come back.”

“Mr Malfoy never even graduated from this school,” she argued.

“And what would have happened if Draco had stood in front of the gates a year after the war, asking your permission to come back and finish his education?” Astoria demanded to know. She had known that Professor McGonagall wouldn’t just let Draco use the library, so she had come here well prepared for a fight. “Would you have allowed that? I don’t think so.”

Looking uncomfortable, McGonagall shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“ _Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it_ ”, Astoria went on. “That’s what Dumbledore always said, wasn’t it? Apparently, that was a lie, too.”

For a moment, Astoria expected her former teacher to shout, but after inhaling deeply, Professor McGonagall pointed towards her desk at last. While she took the chair behind it, Astoria and Draco sat down on the freshly conjured seats on the other side of it.

“Ms Greengrass, you are asking me to trust Draco Malfoy with the most dangerous knowledge in the entire world,” McGonagall said gravely. “The Ministry purge destroyed all books about the Dark Arts outside of these walls. So what we have here can not, under any circumstances, be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Now, Draco Malfoy has a record and I am fairly certain that there were conditions to his acquittal and allowing him access to these books constitutes a breach of these conditions.”

“I can vouch for him,” Astoria said immediately. “I was his healer at St. Mungo’s and even though I’m not allowed to share the details with you, I can promise you that Draco has no bad intentions.”

Still, her former teacher glared at her through the lenses of her spectacles. “I’m afraid that’s not good enough, Ms Greengrass. If I allow Mr Malfoy access, and that is a big _if_ , I will need full disclosure. No details omitted.”

“But-” she tried to argue, however, Draco cut her off before she had a chance.

“I’ll do it,” Draco said simply. “I’ll tell you everything. You can use Veritaserum on me if you don’t take my word for it, but I have one condition.”

McGonagall raised her eyebrows, prompting him to continue.

“You will not go to the authorities,” he demanded. “Whatever you hear, you have to let me handle this on my own.”

McGonagall leaned a little bit closer, her eyes narrowed. “You do realise that this request doesn’t make you sound any more trustworthy?”

“Please, just hear us out,” Astoria almost begged her. “You won’t regret it.”

When the teacher’s shoulders sank, Astoria knew she had won. And if McGonagall was willing to listen, she would be willing to grant them access.

An hour later, she and Draco entered the forbidden section of the library, just as Astoria had planned it. With the promise that no book would leave the library and they wouldn’t share their newly acquired knowledge with the outside world, they could finally get to work. Casting a careful look at Draco, Astoria stepped deeper into the library, yet she couldn’t help but notice that he looked a little drained. Coming clean in front of McGonagall couldn’t have been easy for him and he wouldn’t have done it had there been any other way. Yet once his story was done, their former teacher had nodded and given them permission to search the library. Still, Astoria could almost feel the old shadows that surrounded Draco had been called back to life by retelling his story.

“Are you okay?” she wanted to know.

Draco spun around and for a moment, he looked as if he was surprised to find her there. So engulfed in his own memories, he had clearly forgotten about her presence.

“If you say yes, I’ll punch you,” Astoria warned him. “Don’t lie to me.”

He chuckled softly and granted her a smile. “I will be,” he said. “I just don’t particularly like reliving my past. Now, let’s get to work.”

She watched him draw his wand and cast the spell to summon _Acheronian Magics_ , but nothing happened. Astoria hadn’t expected it to.

“This part of the library is magic-proof,” she explained. “So students can’t mess with the books. We’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way, I’m afraid.”

Even just the forbidden section of the Hogwarts library was much larger than the libraries of her cottage and Malfoy Manor combined, so searching for the book they needed turned out to be tedious work. At first, she had hoped that Draco would remember the shelf where he had seen the book for the first time, but even though the Ministry had allowed Hogwarts to keep all of the volumes, that hadn’t stopped them from searching every single shelf. The result was a completely new system that didn’t follow any rules Astoria knew of. There was no alphabetical order, no books by the same author were ever found in one spot and after searching for a few hours, she could only guess that the lack of a system was meant to discourage people from looking for anything. If it hadn’t been important, Astoria was sure that it would have worked on her. They hadn’t finished searching even a quarter of the forbidden section.

“That’s it!” Draco exclaimed. 

Astoria, who stood on a ladder to search the upper shelves, turned her head downwards to look at him, hopeful that he had found the book at last.

“I’m in purgatory!” he continued angrily. “That’s what this is! I’m being cleansed from my sins in the most tedious and annoying way!”

Despite the whiff of disappointment, Astoria found herself chuckling. “You’re always so dramatic.”

“Yeah, I’m also right,” he muttered and stuffed another book back onto the shelf. “And hungry. I’m very hungry and I doubt McGonagall will let us come into the Great Hall for dinner.”

Given the fact that their former teacher had been extremely reluctant to let them in at all, Astoria also figured that they would be pushing their luck by asking. More hours and many shelves later, however, she regretted it a little. The sun had set completely and the sparse light from the lanterns barely illuminated the books at all. Astoria found it increasingly hard to read the titles without the help of her illuminated wand and also increasingly hard to ignore her growling stomach. Maybe, they should have asked McGonagall whether they were allowed at least in the kitchens.

A sudden noise startled her and Astoria spun around to see Draco glide down the ladder on the other end of the shelf. He had offered to climb up once they had covered about half of the library. However, seeing as they hadn’t made much progress since, Astoria guessed that they could easily do this all night. She dreaded that prospect.

“Dibly!” Draco called out as he made his way towards Astoria. Then, facing her, he went on. “I sincerely hope elves are allowed in here. Otherwise, I’m going to starve and I’m not being dramatic.”

Astoria couldn’t help but agree.

Luckily for them, Dibly appeared seconds later with a loud _plop_ and the elf’s face lit up as soon as she had spotted them.

“Young Master Malfoy!” she exclaimed. “And Ms Greengrass! What a pleasure to see you both!”

Bowing deeply in front of her, Dibly’s nose touched the library floor and Astoria smiled in return. She had liked Dibly from the beginning. “The pleasure is all ours,” she replied, “especially if you could help us out.”

“Yes,” Draco threw in immediately. “Dibly, could you please get us some sandwiches and some butterbeer? 

The elf bowed once more. “It will only take a moment, sir!”

And with that, the house-elf vanished.

With a sigh, Astoria let herself slide down the shelf until she touched the floor. Stretching out her back and legs, she could feel the previous hours in every single one of her bones. Wordlessly, Draco sat down next to her and from the look on his face, Astoria guessed that he felt the same.

“When this is over, let’s not do something like that ever again,” he said.

Blowing the air out between her teeth, Astoria agreed. “Deal.”

Luckily for them, Dibly reappeared seconds later, carrying a large tray full of delicious smelling sandwiches and two bottles of butterbeer.

“You are a saviour!” Draco exclaimed instantly, taking the tray out of her hands to place it on the floor in front of him and Astoria. They both instantly reached for the food while Dibly Disapparated.

With both of them incredibly hungry, the sandwiches had gone in no time and a few minutes later, Astoria and Draco found themselves still sitting in the same spot, clutching their bottles to take an occasional sip and definitely feeling too lazy to get back up and resume their work. There seemed to be a wordless agreement between them to stretch their little break for as long as possible.

“I bet it’s in the last shelf we’re going to check,” Draco said after a while. “The thing you’re looking for is always in the last place you actually look.”

Astoria snorted. “Naturally. You don’t go on searching once you’ve found it.”

Draco turned his head to look at her, his expression somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Don’t be smart, Greengrass,” he said.

A soft nudge between her ribs made her giggle.

“Stop it,” she complained half-heartedly. “I’m not being smart, I’m just tired. Why can’t we just summon the silly book?”

With a sigh, Astoria dropped her head on Draco’s shoulder without even realising what she was doing. The exhaustion and shared jokes had somehow led her to believe it was okay and when she was already afraid she had overstepped her boundaries, she felt Draco rest his head against hers as well.

There it was again, that giddy feeling she had received when she had taken his hand in Hogsmeade. That little flutter inside her stomach which was only increased by Draco’s presence. It was strange, knowing that they hadn’t spent much time together up until a few weeks ago, knowing that she had only scratched the surface of who Draco really was, but she couldn’t deny that she was comfortable in his presence. When he smiled at her, when he jokingly called her by her last name, Astoria had the feeling that he really, deeply appreciated her like she had never witnessed with any other human being. Draco was the first who didn’t take her for granted.

“You know,” he said carefully, “even a silly task like this… I don’t… I mean, I don’t hate it cause I’m doing it with you.”

“You still hate it a little,” Astoria replying, chuckling softly. He wasn’t especially good at expressing himself, but she still grasped the meaning behind his words. She felt the same way.

“We should probably continue,” he reasoned.

With another sigh, Astoria closed her eyes. “In a minute.”

* * *

Something had woken Draco up. He wasn’t sure what, but he became increasingly aware of a persistent backache and a stiff neck that could only have been the result of a rather unhealthy sleeping position. Still, he didn’t dare to move because Astoria was fast asleep on his shoulder and the heat of her body made the skin of his arm tingle in the most pleasant ways. If he shifted only a little, Draco knew that he would wake her up and he wouldn’t do anything that caused her to move.

Then, with the brutality of punch, something smacked him hard in the face. His head collided with Astoria’s, who also uttered a surprised sound of pain, and both sat up straight to stare right into McGonagall’s angry face. Looking down into his lap, Draco realised she had thrown a book at him.

“Mr Malfoy, Ms Greengrass, I hereby revoke your library privileges,” she informed them sternly.

“What?!” Astoria asked sleepily. “But-”

“But you have known since your first year at Hogwarts that food and drinks are not permitted inside the library and you still disregarded the rules. Please, read your book quickly and leave as soon as you are done.”

Finally, Draco gathered his thoughts to the point that he was able to discern the title of the book McGonagall had thrown right into his face and, as it turned out, she had found _Acheronian Magics_ a lot quicker than they had. But then again, she also had the advantage of knowing her own library.

As soon as McGonagall’s footsteps had vanished, Draco cursed under his breath. “She could have helped us find it last night,” he muttered.

Sighing heavily, Astoria reached for the book and opened it in her own lap. “Honestly, at this point, I’m grateful she still helped us at all.”

Draco watched helplessly as Astoria flicked through the pages of the large volume. He tried to be patient, but he still couldn’t help tapping his fingers nervously on the library floor. In just a few moments, they would find out what he had given to the secret society and it would decide whether they were going to do something extremely dangerous or not.

When Astoria finally lifted her head, the look on her face already said it all. The soft lines on her forehead, the little wrinkle between her knitted brows told him that it was bad. Just how bad it was, Draco couldn’t have known.

“So?” he asked carefully. “Do we go after the book?”

“We definitely go after the book,” Astoria confirmed gravely.


	22. Chapter 22

The flames were dancing in the fireplace next to them, illuminating Astoria’s pretty face. Tonight, it didn’t quite seem enough to take his mind off their mission. At first, Draco had wanted to forget all about it and never look bad, but the longer he spent in Astoria’s presence, the more he realised that doing the right thing, well, it was actually the right thing. Yet at the same time, it meant they were facing a difficult and even dangerous task.

“So, that’s bad,” Draco uttered quietly.

Astoria nodded in agreement. “Really bad.”

“I basically traded a possible apocalypse for a spell that didn’t even work.”

“You couldn’t have known,” she tried to reassure him, but Draco knew that it wasn’t true. When the woman had demanded the book from his father’s library, he could have followed his instincts instead of his desperate, misguided need to erase his past. And his instincts had told him right from the beginning that handing over the book was something he shouldn’t do. At the very least, he could have taken a look inside to determine just what he was handing over to a group of people who were obviously deeply in love with the idea of the Dark Arts.

“Time magic, mind control,” Draco listed the contents of _A Secret History of Spells_ , “the magic inside this book could render the Imperius Curse useless. It can affect hundreds, maybe even thousands. They could practically take over the world.”

The woman had told him that they only ever used Dark Magic once consent was given, but Draco wasn’t sure he could trust her. Not anymore. Maybe, he had never trusted her in the first place. Why else would they have needed this particular spellbook if not to use its contents?

“This is why we’re going to get it back,” Astoria said determinedly. “Judging from what it said in _Acheronian Magics_ , the spells are incredibly complex. There is no way they memorised them all, so if we get the book back before they can cast anything, we stand a chance.”

Draco raised his head to look at her and for a moment, he was tempted to tell her to stay out of it. It was his mistake they were trying to fix, it should be up to him alone. The last thing he wanted was to put her in danger. After 23 year, he had finally found a friend, a _true_ friend. As unlikely as it had seemed in the beginning, as unlikely as he still considered it, Astoria had become his friend. They were equals in a way he had never experienced with Crabbe or Goyle or anyone else, who had only ever done what he had told them to. If he attempted to tell Astoria what to do, Draco was pretty sure she would jinx his arse. It had taken him a few weeks to admit it, but Draco could no longer deny that he had desperately needed that. He had needed Astoria in his life and he wasn’t going to lose her again.

“Don’t you think we’re in over our heads with this?” Draco finally asked. “I mean, we’re talking about taking on a dangerous secret society whose members are well versed in the Dark Arts. You keep saying I have first-hand experience, but I don’t. Not nearly enough. Yes, I’ve used forbidden spells, but I only did it when they forced me to and I hated every second of it. I was rubbish at it. I couldn’t even torture a rat. This is something for the Aurors to deal with, not us.”

“It was never my intention to _fight_ them,” Astoria responded immediately. “You’re absolutely right, we wouldn’t stand a chance. But if we go to the Aurors, they will arrest you and your father, maybe even your mother simply because you’re related. I’m not going to let that happen.”

The thought of Azkaban still made Draco shiver, but he hated the thought of his mother being wrongfully imprisoned even more. Of all the Malfoy family members, she was the most innocent one and had never even attempted to cast an unforgivable curse.

“We can’t fight them,” Astoria repeated. “Petty theft, however-”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s your plan?”

Astoria inhaled deeply and even before she spoke, her eyes began to sparkle a little. It was obvious that she had worked on her plan all the way back from Hogwarts, maybe even longer than that, and that she couldn’t wait to finally share it with him. “Okay, here’s an idea. We infiltrate them,” she said, the excitement audible in her voice. Draco decided to hear her out before pointing out the obvious flaw in her plan. “We need Polyjuice Potion and that’s obviously where you come in because whatever I make is more likely to kill us than transform us into anything. We absolutely cannot look like ourselves when we go there, so we would need hairs from Muggles, someone they don’t know. You said they were having a party, so I think we should mingle, show interest in the Dark Arts, figure out where they keep their knowledge and, once we can, take the book and make a run for it.”

To his own surprise, Draco began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?!” Astoria demanded to know, obviously hurt that her plan seemed to amuse him. “You come up with a better plan if you don’t like mine!”

“Your plan isn’t bad,” he admitted, “but none of that will work because we can’t find them. We need one of the enchanted Galleons and Mr Borgin will not hand it over to someone who looks like a Muggle. He is their gatekeeper and he will only give it to trustworthy wizards who know the current password, which, by the way, probably changed since I last talked to him. He won’t give me another coin and I doubt he’ll give you one.”

Draco watched Astoria’s shoulders sink when she realised that her plan was deeply flawed. However, her eyes betrayed the turmoil that was going on inside her head. She was racking her brain to find a solution. Then, her expression changed abruptly as if her mood had taken a sudden turn.

“We will find a way,” she said determinedly and rose to her feet. “But I doubt we’ll find it sitting here, brooding over the matter. Inspiration will strike eventually. After all, I had this idea when we stepped into the Floo Network this morning.”

Both his eyebrows raised in her direction, Draco watched her for a moment, unsure of what she was going to do next. That was another thing about Astoria that he liked, the moments of surprise in which she was utterly unpredictable. Right now, however, he hated it, because she was leaving him in the dark. “What are you going to do?”

With a sigh, she straightened her shoulders and put on a smile. “I’m going to take my mind off the matter completely. How about we go to the Leaky Cauldron and have a drink?”

Draco’s first instinct was to agree on the spot, jump up from his pillow and follow her down the street to the well-known wizard pub. Merlin knew he could use a drink right now after everything they had figured out. However, once his initial thoughts had settled, the doubts began to surface.

“I can’t,” he said, granting her a sad smile. “People won’t want me there.”

Astoria made a dismissive gesture. “People won’t care,” she argued. “They probably won’t notice you at all.”

When she held out her hand to help him up, Draco was tempted to take it. On his own, he would never dare to step inside the Leaky Cauldron, but Astoria’s presence made him want to be brave. It made him want to lead a normal life. What kind of friend would he be if they couldn’t even visit a pub together?

“Drinks are on me?” she offered cautiously.

“Well, the Leaky Cauldron sells this ancient, vastly expensive Firewhisky,” he replied with a shrug and finally reached for her hand.

As she pulled him up, Draco heard Astoria chuckle. “Don’t push your luck.”

The air had cooled considerably since the sunset and Draco instinctively pulled his cloak a little tighter around his body. Glancing at Astoria next to him, he wanted to make sure that she wasn’t freezing, but she seemed impervious to the cold. The memory of her cool fingers entwined in his entered Draco’s mind and for a moment, he wondered whether he could dare to repeat the intimacy they had shared in Hogsmeade. A part of him wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her hand as they walked down Diagon Alley. He had been an idiot the day before, making a rude remark when he had been so grateful for the gesture. Was this his second chance? Was this the right moment to make it better?

Yet before he could even attempt to take her hand, Astoria looked at him and smiled. “Stop worrying,” she told him. “I can see you’re worried about something.”

Draco managed to smile at her in return. This time, he knew, she was definitely wrong about what was going on inside his head.

“We’ll figure out a way to get to the secret society. We’ll stop them, whatever they’re planning,” she reassured him. “There has to be a way. But until we find one, there’s no use brooding-”

Astoria broke off suddenly and glanced over her shoulder. Draco followed her gaze, yet found nothing that could have attracted her attention.

“What’s wrong?” he wanted to know.

Her eyes still fixed on a dark corner where Knockturn Alley melted into the street, she shook her head. “Nothing,” she replied. “Probably just a cat.”

Luckily for them, the Leaky Cauldron was merely a stone’s throw from Draco’s flat, so they didn’t have to bear the cold for very long. Once inside, they were engulfed by almost stifling but pleasantly warm pub air that carried the smell of alcohol and pipe smoke. When Astoria pointed towards an empty table in the back, Draco nodded in agreement. He didn’t want to sit anywhere too public just so the entire world could gawk at him. To his surprise, however, the guests were either too drunk or too immersed in their conversations to pay him any attention at all. Maybe, coming here hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

They had already crossed half the pub when Draco’s hopes of having a normal evening were shattered in a heartbeat when Tom stepped into their path.

“We don’t serve his kind in here,” he growled and nodded unmistakably towards Draco.

He was inclined to leave immediately and not cause a scene in the middle of a pub, but Astoria certainly seemed to have other ideas when she stepped in front of him, facing the barman.

“We’re paying customers,” she argued loudly. Maybe it was her intention to arouse the other guests’ attention, but even if they had noticed, they certainly wouldn’t have come to his aid.

Tom grunted. “You can stay. He leaves now.”

At last, Draco found the courage to reach for Astoria’s hand, if only to pull her back. “Let’s go,” he urged her quietly.

“No,” Astoria said determinedly. She was now glaring at Draco. “Stop letting people treat you like you don’t deserve their respect. You were acquitted-”

“They’re treating me like I treated them,” Draco barked in reply. “It doesn’t matter that I was acquitted, I was still a jerk and I’m paying the price for it. Let’s leave.”

“Listen to the boy,” Tom said menacingly. “And go.”

Astoria threw one more deadly look at the barman and, if Draco had been in Tom’s shoes, he would have given in regardless of his conviction. Right now, he would have been afraid of Astoria - and maybe rightly so. Her hand was hidden under her cloak, but Draco could still see the subtle flick of her wand before she spun around and headed towards the door. He had no other choice but to follow her and, if he was entirely honest, he was glad to be out of the pub.

“What did you do?” Draco wanted to know as he followed Astoria out of the pub. “I saw you cast a spell. You didn’t jinx him, did you?”

Astoria didn’t turn around. She just continued her stride, even walking past the entrance to his flat, radiating anger without ever saying a word. “Let’s just say he will get a little surprise when he looks into the mirror tomorrow morning!”

“Astoria, wait!” Draco called after her, but she didn’t stop. Only when he broke out into a run, overtook her and positioned himself in her path did she finally come to a halt. The only time he had seen her this angry was when she had faced his father in the hospital. That hadn’t exactly ended well for him and Draco was afraid of what Astoria might do to him if he crossed her right now. Still, he had to try. “You can’t just go around jinxing people like that. Especially not because of me.”

“And why not?!” she demanded angrily. “He had no right to refuse you! Especially not so publicly!”

“He had every right,” Draco said in a calm manner. Astoria might not understand, but he did. Before Voldemort’s downfall, he had walked around the wizarding world, intimidating people, delivering threats, treating anyone who didn’t bear the Malfoy name like they were inferior to him.

“The war is over. You were acquitted. It’s time they stopped punishing you for choosing the wrong side when you were just a teenager,” she replied. Her voice had calmed down, but Draco could still see the flashes of anger in her dark, brown eyes. Even in the dim streetlight of Diagon Alley, they seemed to be glowing.

Draco did what he had wanted to do all evening. He reached for Astoria’s hand and held it gently in his own. If words couldn’t reach her, maybe he could convey what he was trying to say through a more physical connection.

“You know me,” Draco explained quietly. “They don’t. To them, I’m only the son of Lucius Malfoy, I’m a former Death Eater, Voldemort used my family home as a base from which he terrorised the world. You can’t force them to trust me just because the Ministry said I’m not guilty. I have to earn their respect and that might takes years, if it’s even possible at all.”

Astoria looked like she was going to protest, but she finally seemed to have run out of arguments.

“I changed my mind about something,” Draco announced suddenly. “That secret society, I don’t just want to steal the book back from them. I want to bring them down. Maybe, that will help them win back their trust.”

To his surprise, she frowned at him in response. “Why this sudden change of heart?”

Draco opened his mouth, but then suddenly felt unsure whether he should actually say it. It had been a spontaneous idea, maybe even a stupid one. He certainly couldn’t tell the difference, not when his moral compass was still spinning out of control.

“Because you deserve to go to the pub with whoever you want,” Draco replied eventually, hesitantly. “I don’t want to be the reason people look at you with suspicion and distrust.”

At last, Astoria’s face lit up and a smile spread across her face. In all those times Draco had seen her smile, he had never actually seen her quite like this and suddenly, something tightened in his chest. His heart was beating so fast that he thought it might try to break free from the confinements of its boney cage. He became increasingly aware of how close they were and that he was still holding her hand and Draco had no idea what any of it meant. Never before had he experienced a moment as strange and as wonderful as this.

Then, Astoria’s attention was diverted. Her eyes fell on a spot behind him, her hand slipped from his grasp and she distanced himself from him the moment Draco began to hear a loud clap.

He spun around on his heels and watched Blaise Zabini emerge from the shadows, applauding something he didn’t understand and grinning broadly at the two of them.

“That was a wonderful speech, Malfoy,” he congratulated him.


	23. Chapter 23

Draco stepped back and his first instinct was to reach for Astoria’s hand again, but for a moment, he seemed almost paralysed. What had he been thinking, discussing their plan in a public place even when the streets seemed deserted? Now, they had been caught and the idea of getting his book back, the idea of bringing down the secret society fell apart like a house of cards in a light breeze. If Blaise Zabini knew, there was no way they were going to carry out their plan.

“Relax,” his old classmate said with a chuckle. He stepped a little closer and, under the light of a streetlamp, the amusement was visible on his face. “You’re lucky it was I who overheard you and not some dubious wizard coming down from Knockturn Alley. You two really shouldn’t discuss these things out in the open.”

When Draco glanced at Astoria, he was relieved to find the same kind of confusion on her face that he was feeling right now. Together, they frowned at him.

“You were there before,” Astoria realised. “You followed us even before we went into the pub.”

Zabini laughed sheepishly and scratched the back of his had with his index finger. “Yeah, well, I overheard you by accident. Figured you were up to something, but I had no idea it would be something _this_ interesting.” He straightened his back and observed them for a moment, obviously judging their capabilities. Then, Draco received the biggest surprise of the evening. “I want to help.”

“I’m sorry, you _what_?” Draco scoffed.

“Why don’t I buy us a bottle of Firewhisky from the pub you were so ungraciously kicked out of and we’ll go somewhere more private to finish this conversation?” Zabini suggested.

Draco turned towards Astoria, but to his surprise, she merely shrugged.

“Well, we’re kind of at a dead end right now,” she reasoned. “And he’s overheard enough to put the rest together by himself, so let’s give him a chance.”

“You can’t be serious!” Draco exclaimed, but then Astoria grabbed him by the lapel of his cloak and pulled him further away from Zabini, out of earshot.

When she spoke again, her voice had dropped to a whisper. “Listen, I know for a fact that Zabini has no love for the Dark Arts. I don’t know what prompted it, but I’m guessing he’ll tell us if we give him a chance. If we don’t like what we’re hearing, well, in that case, I’m pretty decent at memory spells.”

A hint of a smile appeared on her lips once again and for a moment, Draco thought she looked extremely proud. Sometimes, Astoria was so kind that he almost forgot she was a fellow Slytherin, but it always shone through eventually. It wasn’t her words that changed his mind at last, it was the mischievous twinkling in her eyes that made him agree. And she was absolutely right. They needed help.

With a flick of his wand, Draco poured the Firewhisky Zabini had bought into three glasses while his former classmate let his gaze wander around the flat. When Astoria did it, it felt a lot less like an invasion of his privacy.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Zabini said eventually, an amicable smile on his face. “Though I never really pictured you moving out of Malfoy Manor. Your family still owns that place, right?”

“They do,” Draco confirmed coldly. The implication that they had lost even that bothered him. “I just-”

“You needed to get away from your parents. I get it. I have a flat in Muggle London now,” Zabini explained. “You two live here together?”

When Zabini nodded towards Draco and Astoria, he became aware of how close they were sitting to each other and he felt the heat rise into his cheeks. Had they really given off the impression that they were together in that way? And why had this particular implication caused his heart to skip a beat?

“Draco and I are friends,” Astoria corrected him. Her face looked slightly flushed, but it could have been the effects of the blazing fire. Then, it took on a stern expression. “You said you wanted to help us. Why?”

Blaise Zabini shrugged and took a sip from his Firewhisky before he continued. “Like your family, Astoria, my mother and I remained neutral during the war. We never chose a side, but, unlike you, people assumed that since I was part of Slytherin house, I must have… an affinity for the Dark Arts. At first, I didn’t do much to discourage that way of thinking. I had never done anything wrong, so I had nothing to fear from the Ministry. And if… certain people _thought_ I was well-versed in the Dark Arts, well, it commanded their respect. Until they started to harass my mother. It drove her out of her home and into seclusion.”

“Who harassed her?” Draco wanted to know. He remembered Mrs Zabini from several social gatherings that he had been made to attend throughout his teenage years and she had always struck him as a strong personality. One whose husbands kept dying under mysterious circumstances, always leaving her richer than she had been before. Draco couldn’t think of anything that might scare her.

Zabini shrugged. “That’s the thing, I don’t know for sure,” he admitted with a sigh. “They made it look like it was nothing but a prank from people who fought in the war and aimed to eradicate Dark Magic. They even broke into our home and smeared slurs across the walls. However, since it seemed to have come from the winning side of the war, the Aurors never really looked into it. My mother eventually moved away to a quieter area and my flat in Muggle London is warded up to the teeth. The attacks stopped.”

Astoria leaned forward, her eyes narrowed at him. “Yet you have your doubts about the matter,” she concluded.

He nodded. “Around the time the attacks started, I began to receive… invitations. They wanted me to join a cult, or, as you’ve put it, a secret society where the members still practised the Dark Arts. I declined, of course. Coincidentally, the attacks on me and my mother stopped at the same time as the invitations.”

“And you think it was them,” Draco reasoned.

Zabini nodded.

“Why didn’t you join?” he wanted to know. “I mean, it’s not like you had anything to lose.”

“For the same reason you would never join them,” Zabini spat at him in return. “Because as much as we fancied the idea of the Dark Arts as children, the reality of it never quite lived up to the fantasy of us as all-powerful wizards. I’ve seen enough of that during the war and I believe so have you.”

Draco nodded. He understood all too well.

“Did you ever mention any of this to the Aurors who were investigating your mother’s case?” Astoria wanted to know.

“I tried,” Zabini admitted. For a brief moment, Draco thought he had seen a flicker of fear in his eyes. “But I couldn’t. This secret society you’re up against, they’re good, they’re really, _really_ good. I couldn’t talk about them. I couldn’t write anything down. The invitations they sent me vanished as soon as I had looked at them. It took me nearly three years to overcome the spell they put on me. Even Veritaserum couldn’t coax it out of me.”

“That’s impossible!” Astoria argued immediately. “That kind of magic doesn’t exist. Besides, Draco met them and he was able to tell me.”

“While I was at their meeting,” Draco interrupted them, only really remembering the incident now. “I don’t know if this is important or not, but someone approached me when I tried to leave. He looked as though he was going to say something, but then stepped out of my path. Maybe it had something do to with the magic that prevented you from talking about it.”

“Still,” Astoria said, “it doesn’t explain how you were able to tell me and Professor McGonagall after that.”

Blaise Zabini, however, shrugged. “Once the curse is broken, you can tell whoever you want. There’s nothing keeping me from telling you now. But it took years to overcome. I tried so often to talk about it… to the Aurors, to my friends. Finally, I was able to tell my mother just a few months ago.”

Draco sipped his Firewhisky quietly and watched Astoria do the same, all the while pondering the matter. He thought back to the evening he had first told Astoria about the book. The delicious dinner, her beautiful green dress, both of them sitting on the pillows by the fire just like they were doing right now. When he had finally told her, the words hadn’t come easily and the longer he thought about it, the surer Draco became that he had broken the spell right then and there without even knowing it. Just for him, the person who could break the spell happened to be the very first person he had attempted to tell.

“You trust your mother completely, don’t you?” Draco found himself asking his former classmate.

Zabini looked surprised and also a little affronted. “Naturally,” he replied. “She raised me. Why are you asking?”

Draco took a deep breath, knowing how strange it was going to sound. “It’s about trust,” he explained. “These people don’t trust anyone, not even each other, so to prevent information about them from falling into the wrong hands, they built their spell on absolute trust. And that’s rare. You couldn’t tell the Aurors or your friends because even the smallest hint of doubt prevents the spell from breaking. You have to be absolutely and undeniably sure that you can trust the person you’re telling with your life.”

That’s how Draco had broken the spell. Even though he hadn’t even known Astoria that well, even though they had only decided to be friends days before that particular evening, Draco had known that he could trust her completely. She had been the first to be honest with him, she had helped him and listened without judgement, she had saved his life twice. Draco hadn’t realised it until now, but Astoria had become the one person he trusted most in the entire world and that had broken the spell.

Glancing in her direction, Draco found Astoria looking at him and he had to fight hard to not avoid her gaze. From the look in her eyes, he could tell that she was fully aware of the implications of what he had just confessed. Yet she didn’t seem to mind at all. If it hadn’t looked completely stupid in front of Zabini, Draco would have reached out and taken her hand again.

When his classmate chuckled, Draco was torn out of his thoughts. “And you’re perfectly sure you’re not living here together?” he wanted to know, clearly amused.

Luckily for Draco, Astoria decided to continue. “We could report them to the Aurors, but they have something of Draco’s that they might be able to trace back to him. We have to get it back before we get the Ministry involved,” she determined. “But you need an enchanted Galleon from Mr Borgin and to receive it, you need a password.”

Blaise Zabini nodded. “I can get those things,” he reassured them. “Might take some time, but I can get them.”

With that, his former classmate rose to his feet and brushed imaginary dust off his trousers. “I’ll be in touch,” he said and turned towards the fireplace.

“Wait!” Astoria called after him. She waited until Zabini had turned around to look at her. “You know who is behind the secret society, don’t you?”

Draco was surprised to hear her say it and looked from Astoria to Blaise and then back to her. Had he missed something important?

“I have a hunch,” Zabini admitted carefully.

“It’s Nott, isn’t it?”

Draco watched his classmate nod and somehow, he didn’t even feel a hint of surprise at the mention of Theodore Nott’s name. While he had never been officially associated with Voldemort or the Dark Arts, his father had been a Death Eater, one of those now rotting in Azkaban. The idea that Nott had decided to walk in his father’s footsteps wasn’t exactly far-fetched.

“I can’t be sure,” Zabini admitted. “He was always a quiet boy at school. You never knew what was really going on inside his head. If your sister is still friends with him, she might be in danger.”

When Astoria failed to respond and even Draco had run out of things to say, Blaise Zabini turned his back on them, reached for the Floo Powder and vanished into green flames.


	24. Chapter 24

The fireplace had long resumed its natural colour, the logs were cracking in the flames and a glance at the clock on his wall told Draco that they were approaching midnight. After Blaise Zabini had left, there seemed to have been an unspoken agreement between him and Astoria to let the matter rest until they could move forward with their plan. She hadn’t said anything in a while and a part of him was grateful for the silence even though he could feel something heavy float around the room like an invisible spirit. It had taken Draco a while to pinpoint what it was, so he had just sipped his Firewhisky and continued to pretend he hadn’t just confessed to Astoria that she was the person he trusted most in the entire world.

Whenever he glanced at her, Astoria was gazing into the flames, only ever taking the occasional sip from her glass even when she had long finished her drink, completely lost in her thoughts. Maybe she was worried about her sister, maybe she was thinking about what an idiot he was, but her features looked too serene for either of that.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Draco said when he could no longer bear not knowing.

To his surprise, Astoria chuckled without looking at him. “I’m thinking about how McGonagall threw a book at your face.”

Draco uttered a soft groan, but it wasn’t entirely devoid of amusement. “She could have broken my nose and you think that’s funny.”

Finally, she turned her head to look at him, smiling kindly. “I’m a healer. I’d have fixed your nose in a heartbeat.”

With a sigh, she leaned back until she was lying flat on the carpet, only her head supported by one of the pillows they usually sat on. Draco watched her for a moment, then decided that he might as well follow her example and make himself comfortable. A strange idea came to his mind, one Blaise Zabini had put there earlier, and for just a few seconds, Draco was brave enough to imagine what it would be like if Astoria actually lived here with him. He pushed the thought aside as soon as it had come, knowing it had absolutely no place in his mind.

“About what I said earlier-” Draco began, looking for a way to justify what he had told Astoria, but the words failed him once more. He had never been especially good at turning his thoughts and feelings into words.

“I trust you, too,” Astoria confirmed without looking at him. Then, when she turned her head, she wore a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Why?” Draco wanted to know.

It was hard for her to shrug, lying flat on her back with her head propped up with a pillow, but he still understood the gesture.

“When my family looks at me, they see a daughter or a sister. My patients, they see a healer,” she said quietly. “But when you do it, there’s that look that makes me think you’re really just seeing _me_.”

At last, Draco smiled at her in return. “You know what? I think this friendship thing was really one of your better ideas, Greengrass.”

Chuckling to herself, Astoria turned once more to lie on her back, her eyes fixed on the glass ceiling above them. Draco followed her gazes and noticed what she must have seen, too. Thick, white flakes danced outside through the night sky.

“Look!” she said and pointed towards the ceiling.

“It’s snowing,” Draco noted with a smile. Lying here with Astoria, just watching the snowflakes dance above their heads seemed like the most peaceful thing he could imagine.

Carefully, Draco’s hand moved over the carpet, hoping to find Astoria’s hand. He had been too scared to do it in front of Blaise Zabini, and it didn’t exactly feel like an act of bravery right now because he was nervous even before his fingers brushed against Astoria’s skin. The touch of her hand left a strange but pleasant tingling on his skin, but Astoria didn’t move, she didn’t shy away from it. Gathering all his courage, he reached for her hand, their fingers entwined and he held on to her as if he was holding on for dear life. Draco didn’t think he had ever felt more at peace than right now.

“Do you want to go outside?” Astoria’s voice tore him out of his tranquillity, but when she spoke, she did it so gently that it hardly felt like a disturbance at all.

Still, Draco turned his head and frowned at her. “You want to go outside? In the cold?” he asked just to be sure he had heard her correctly.

Astoria grinned and nodded. “Winter has always been my favourite season,” she said as if it explained her sudden urge to have her hands freeze off. “The cold, the snow, Christmas.”

As she said those words, Draco began to picture it. The winters at Hogwarts where he had thrown snowballs at first-years, the Christmases at Malfoy Manor, always slightly cold and sinister. Then, something else came to his mind. It wouldn’t have to be like that this year, not necessarily.

“Would you like to spend Christmas Eve with me? At Malfoy Manor?” The words had escaped his mouth before he could change his mind about them.

Draco regretted them as soon as he saw Astoria’s eyes widen. “You mean with your parents? The ones that hate me?”

“My mother invited you over for dinner,” he explained. “Maybe I should have led with that. I probably should have led with that. Anyway, she heard about me having breakfast with your parents and I think she’s trying to make an effort. Why not do it on Christmas Eve?”

He hadn’t realised that he was still holding her hand until Astoria let go and he felt the absence of her touch. She sat back up and looked at Draco, her eyebrows turned into a frown. “What about your father? I did kind of embarrass him.”

“Obviously, you don’t have to accept if you don’t want to. I just thought… well, I thought it might be nice,” he admitted. Maybe he should have thought it through more thoroughly.

Astoria seemed to consider her response for a while. Then, a mischievous expressed lit up her face. “How about I think about it,” she offered, “but only if you follow me now and let me beat you in a snowball fight?”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her in a playful manner. “I’m the snowball champion, Greengrass. You don’t stand a chance.”

She shrugged. “We’ll see about that.”

In the time it took them to wrap themselves in their winter cloaks, scarves and gloves, the snow had fallen relentlessly and was now covering streets, pavements and the grass of the nearby park. Astoria had spoken out against heading towards Diagon Alley and Draco had agreed all too willingly, not particularly eager to be watched by the few witches and wizards who were still up past midnight. On the other side of the world, out here in Muggle London, a few more people still roamed the street, yet Draco and Astoria were strangers to them. As they headed towards the nearest park, their arms hooked into each other, they probably looked like any ordinary couple out for a midnight stroll in the snow and Draco couldn’t deny that he was enjoying the anonymity. Neither the businessman passing in his taxi nor the young woman hurrying past them with grocery bags would ever suspect them to be capable of magic. They were blissfully oblivious to the wizarding war, the horrors that had happened right under their noses and the dangers they were still facing from a new menace.

“I think this is an excellent spot for Snowy,” Astoria announced as she came to a halt. Her hands were pointed towards an empty area of untouched snow. Not a single footprint disturbed the picture.

“An excellent spot for what?”

“Snowy, our snowman,” she explained before she ducked and started to destroy the untouched surface of the snow.

Draco watched for a moment, examined how she rolled the thick, heavy snow into a ball that grew bigger and bigger as she moved it around. It had been so long since he had done something as innocent as building a snowman that he had almost forgotten how it worked. While Astoria was still busy building the base, Draco decided to help and started rolling up the belly, all the while ignoring how the cold, wet snow seeped through his gloves. A few minutes later, their snowman stood proud and erect in the middle of the park, but it was still lacking a few important details. Looking out over his shoulder to see that they weren’t being watched, Draco drew out his wand to give _Snowy_ eyes, a nose and a few buttons for his coat.

“He looks beautiful,” Astoria noted and admired their work a little more closely.

“I bet he won’t live until morning,” Draco muttered next to her.

Astoria gawked at him, feigning horror. “How can you say that to his face?!”

Before Draco knew what was happening, a snowball hit him right in the neck. When he stumbled back to shake off the wet, disgustingly cold feeling in his neck, he noticed the snow on Astoria’s hand and realised that she must have planned it from the start, only waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Her laughter echoed across the park. “Snowball champion, you said?!”

Pretending to still shake off the snow, Draco used the moment she was so busy laughing at him to act quickly. He gathered the snow in his hands and tossed it in Astoria’s direction. She, however, evaded his attack and received nothing more than a few sprinkles on her sleeve. Draco didn’t have to wait for the counter-attack for very long and before he knew what was happening, they were chasing each other around the park, snowballs hitting and missing them every few seconds.

Even as he was busy evading Astoria’s snow attacks, Draco understood perfectly what she was doing and why she had asked him to follow her outside. In all those years that he had spent cooped up in Malfoy Manor, in the years during the war, Draco had completely forgotten what it felt like to just let go and have fun. Even as a new, unknown threat cast another shadow above their heads, Astoria had decided to just take a moment and make it theirs. She really had a talent for chasing the shadows away, even if only lasted for a short while.

Draco formed another snowball in his hands and tossed it in Astoria’s direction, not really expecting it to strike. Playing Seeker for the Slytherin team had made him incredibly good at catching, but his aim had never really been the strongest. Yet Astoria was still busy gathering up a handful of snow, so the ball hit her right across the back.

“Oi!” she exclaimed loudly and spun around, glaring playfully at him. “You’re going to regret that!”

Draco chuckled. “Oh, am I?”

With her hands still filled with snow, Astoria charged at him. The only sensible thing left to do was run, so Draco took to his heels and dashed across the snowy lawn. As he ran, he threw an occasional glance across his shoulder to see whether she had already given up, but Astoria was always right behind him. He waited for another snowball to hit him in the neck, but nothing happened.

Then, seemingly out of the blue, something large and heavy hit him in the back, much larger and heavier than a handful of snow, Draco lost his balance and fell face-first into the fresh, white snow. Astoria landed on top of his back after she had knocked him over, using her entire body weight to pin him down.

Laughing and panting from the run, they both rolled onto their backs. Draco needed a moment to catch his breath and, he assumed, so did Astoria.

“I told you you would regret it.” She chuckled, still sounding slightly out of breath. “You’re getting old, Draco.”

Glowering, he turned his head to face her. “I’m twenty-three,” he complained half-heartedly.

“Yeah,” Astoria said with a giggle, “and losing your touch.”

“May I remind you that you’re not exactly a lot younger,” Draco growled playfully.

When she finally turned her head to look at him as well, Draco noticed that she was still breathing heavily and that her cheeks were flushed from the cold and recent exercise. The dark, curly hair that had escaped the confinements of her hat was covered in snow. It seemed that she grew a little prettier with each passing day.

“Hey,” Astoria said and suddenly nudged him gently, still grinning. “You’re not honestly dying on me after a little run, are you? You’re really not _that _old.”__

__Draco laughed. He had always used insults to communicate with people, never really knowing how else to express himself. Most of the time, people had just accepted it and whenever someone had dared to counter his verbal attacks, Draco had felt incredibly affronted. Astoria, once again, was an exception to the rule. She always gave as good as she got and Draco found himself loving the fact that he had finally met his match._ _

__“Just let me breathe for a moment, will you?” Draco complained without really meaning it. Yet from where she drew her relentless energy and enthusiasm, he could only guess._ _

__Then, his eyes wandered further down her winter cloak and even in the low light of the park, he suddenly noticed a little detail that had slipped his attention so far._ _

__“Hey,” he uttered and Draco moved up his hand to touch the scarf that was all too familiar to him. His fingers caressed the well-known green and silver wool, “you’re still wearing your Hogwarts scarf.”_ _

__Astoria grinned at him. “House pride,” she said simply. “I have it.”_ _

__As if someone had flicked a switch inside her mind, her features suddenly grew serious again. “I thought about it,” Astoria announced eventually. Before Draco had a chance to ask what she meant, however, she continued. “I’ll spend Christmas with you and your parents.”_ _

__Draco didn’t know why, but for some reason, the prospect made him extremely happy._ _

__

__A sudden shiver came over Astoria’s body and it brought Draco back to reality. He wasn’t sure how long they had been outside, but it served as a reminder that they should probably head back to his flat before either of them caught pneumonia or worse._ _

__“Let’s get back,” Draco suggested and even before Astoria had agreed, he rose to his feet and offered her a hand._ _

__Smiling softly, Astoria took it and let him pull her up. Yet when he released her hand, something happened and it almost made Draco’s heart stop. Astoria swayed dangerously on the spot, her eyes lost focus for just a second and he was sure that she was going to fall. He caught her just in the nick of time, steading her by placing his hands firmly on her hips.  
“Are you okay?” Draco asked and it frightened him how worried his voice sounded. For a moment, she had really frightened him._ _

__When she smiled at him, Draco felt a little reassured._ _

__“Yes,” Astoria confirmed. “Just got up a little too quickly. Also, I’m really, really tired.”_ _

__Draco rolled his eyes at her. “You were right, you really are bad at taking care of yourself.”_ _

__He hadn’t actually realised it with everything that had happened in the last two days, but now, Draco felt the exhaustion creep up on him, too. Maybe he had grown a little too used to the feeling and hadn’t recognised it for what it was, but they hadn’t exactly had a proper night’s sleep in the Hogwarts library and it was high time for them to catch up on that._ _

__“Let’s go back to my flat,” Draco suggested and offered her his arm._ _

__Astoria nodded and hooked her arm into his with a grateful smile. Whether it was because she was still unsteady on her feet or whether she was enjoying the closeness, Draco never knew as they made their way back to Diagon Alley with crunching steps while the snow was falling silently around them and covered their tracks. In just half an hour, no one would know that they had ever been here, their peaceful, carefree moment reduced to nothing but a memory._ _


	25. Chapter 25

The warmth of his flat had never felt more inviting to Draco and he didn’t waste another moment before he took off his snow-soaked cloak and discarded it on the kitchen chair. He considered himself lucky that a simple coating spell had protected the rest of his clothes from getting wet.

Turning around, he noticed that Astoria was still wearing her cloak and she had positioned herself in front of the fireplace, looking like she was ready to leave. It hadn’t occurred to Draco until now, but he suddenly felt stupid for not considering that, after spending two days in each other’s presence, their time together had come to an end right now. He didn’t like the idea at all, especially given the look of exhaustion on Astoria’s face.

“I should get back home,” she told him with a soft smile. “And sleep for a hundred years. I’ll send you an owl.”

“Take my bed,” he blurted out. The words had come over him before Draco was able to stop himself.

The frown on Astoria’s face told him she was just as surprised as he was by his statement. Yet the longer Draco thought about it, the more sense it made.

“You can sleep in my bed, if you want to,” he added. “You really shouldn’t take the Floo Network right now. You’re exhausting, who knows where you’ll end up?”

To his astonishment, she chuckled in response. “And where will you sleep?” Astoria wanted to know.

Knowing that she hadn’t said no seemed to give Draco another boost and he racked his equally tired brain for an appropriate solution. Then, with a flick of his wand, he conjured a sleeping bag and a few more pillows right in front of Astoria’s feet.

“Right there,” he said with a nod towards the sleeping bag and, waving his wand for the second time, transformed the wrinkled sheets in his bed into clean ones.

Astoria seemed to consider it. Draco wasn’t entirely sure why he was trying so hard not to let her go and he couldn’t say whether it really was just the worry that she might end up somewhere far down the Floo Network. Maybe, after two whole days together, the idea of being alone just seemed a little weird to him right now.

Without saying another word, Astoria reached for the clasp of her cloak and undid it, then tossed the damp piece of clothing towards his kitchen where his cloak was already beginning to dry. Draco realised that her aim was much more accurate than his own, something she had already proven during their snowball fight.

“Alright,” she finally said in agreement. Yet, just as she was about to walk past him, she stopped where he was standing and raised her index finger at him as if she was warning him. “You better not snore.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Draco replied with a chuckle and watched Astoria cross the room and walk up the steps towards his bed.

Once she had settled in, Draco himself approached the improvised sleeping bag and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. Still, it was better than the bookshelves in the Hogwarts library.

“Good night,” Astoria called from the other end of the room.

“Good night,” Draco responded and killed the lights with a gentle flick of his wand.

* * *

Astoria was woken up when the sun shone through the glass ceiling and tickled her nose. For a moment, all she wanted was to pull the duvet over her head, ignore the light and sleep for another year or maybe even two. The combined brightness of the sun and snow seemed almost overwhelming, but her limbs just wouldn’t move to fight against it. Ever since her childhood, Astoria had had a vivid personality, always bursting with energy, always ready to jump headfirst into whatever roused her excitement, pouring all of her passion into it in the process. Her father had always laughed and told her she was unstoppable. Lately, however, she seemed to pay the price for her restlessness. First, there had been the many hours of overtime at St. Mungo’s, now two days with very little sleep and many new revelations had taken their toll. Astoria needed rest.

“Tea?”

Finally, Astoria lifted her head and looked up to see Draco standing over. He was smiling and holding a steaming mug into her face. There was little doubt that he had only just woken up himself and that the first task he had undertaken was the walk towards the kettle because his usually neatly combed and flattened hair was dishevelled and stood up in all possible directions. He also hadn’t shaved in the last few days and a hint of scruff was beginning to show on his chin. Combined with his smile, Astoria thought it might be a look that she could easily get used to.

“Thanks,” Astoria said softly and reached for the mug. The tea was dark and smelled wonderfully strong.

While she took her first careful sip, Draco reached for his own mug and drank before he started to talk. “So, I was thinking,” he said, “since we’re definitely going to need Polyjuice Potion for our plan, I should probably go shopping for the ingredients. If I remember correctly, that stuff needs to stew for an eternity.”

After taking another sip from her tea, Astoria nodded. “Good thinking,” she agreed. “And I should probably show my face at home soon. I told my parents I was going to Hogwarts, but I never said anything about a two-day-trip. They’ll be worried. Oh, and you didn’t forget about that Quidditch match with my father this weekend, did you?”

The expression on Draco’s face told her that he had very much forgotten about that as the colour suddenly drained from his face.

“Right,” he said as the realisation struck him. “Yes, I was looking forward to that.”

“ _Was?_ ”

“I am,” Draco confirmed, yet there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Astoria watched as his bit down on his lip, obviously thinking hard. “Is it weird that I’m also a little terrified? I mean, I don’t want him to laugh at me like he did at breakfast. I just want to make a better impression than I did last time.”

Astoria snorted in response. “ _You’re_ scared? Remember that last night, I agreed to meet _your_ parents after I made an undeniably worse impression on them?”

Draco blew the air out between his teeth and straightened his back. “We’ll both be fine,” he determined eventually.

When she had finished her tea, Astoria felt somewhat invigorated, as if the tea had restored her strength and driven out her earlier exhaustion. While Draco still had his nose buried inside his mug, she leaned forward and placed a gentle peck on his cheek.

“Send an owl if you need my help with the supplies. And thanks for the tea,” she said and rushed down the steps to where her cloak still hung over the kitchen chair. A few seconds later, she turned around once more to wave him goodbye, only to find Draco still frozen to the same spot.

Reluctantly, he waved back just before the world of fireplaces rushed past her.

The soot clung to her damp cloak when she arrived at the cottage’s kitchen fireplace, her family’s access to the Floo Network, but when Astoria had hoped for a peaceful arrival, she had been very much mistaken because her mother came hurrying into the kitchen mere seconds later.

“Oh, thank Merlin!” she exclaimed loudly. “Your father and I have been out of our minds with worry!”

“Speak for yourself, Eudora!” came her father’s voice from the lounge. “I told you she was a big girl and would come home eventually!”

Astoria opened her mouth to respond, but she never even got the chance because her mother clearly hadn’t finished saying what she had entered the kitchen to say.

“Where in Merlin’s name have you been?!”

Now frowning at her mother, Astoria stood upright. “I told you before I left. We went to Hogwarts. Research just took a bit longer than anticipated. And then we ran into an old friend and just forget the time,” she explained, but not without a hint of anger in her voice. “Besides, Dad is right. I’m a big girl..”

“You could have at least sent an owl,” her mother growled.

“Because Daphne sends an owl every time she stays somewhere overnight?”

Her parents had a lot more reason to worry about her older sister than her, especially if she was hanging out with Theodore Nott. Obviously, Astoria couldn’t tell her them that, but it didn’t mean she didn’t want to.

Her shoulders dropped and Astoria let out a sigh. “I’m sorry,” she apologised. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Draco and I really just ran into a friend from Hogwarts and it got quite late. You would have been asleep anyway, so-”

She stopped when her mother’s eyes widened. “Draco? Draco Malfoy? That’s who you’ve been spending so much time with lately?”

Not knowing what else to do, Astoria nodded. The expression on her mother’s face was unreadable as if she hadn’t made up her mind about what she should think of it yet. The next thing she said was something Astoria hadn’t expected to hear in a million years.

“I know your father might disagree, but I do think that Malfoy boy would be an excellent match for you.”

“Mum-”

“No, hear me out,” her mother interrupted her. “It’s true, their involvement with Voldemort made the Malfoys a little unpopular in certain circles, but they are still one of the most renowned pure-blood families. Your children would be incredible witches and wizards.”

At that point, Astoria burst into laughter. While the topic of marriage came up over and over again, she had always made it clear that wedding bells were not in her future. Her sister Daphne was the one with those aspirations, the one who took after their mother. Astoria was too much like her father in that respect. While the idea of a loving relationship appealed to her, she could never become a pure-blood housewife who sat at home, waiting for her husband to return from work while tending to their equally pure-blood children. Astoria needed more from life than just that.

And the idea of marrying Draco Malfoy and having his children was laughable. Even though a tiny part of her, a part she was trying to keep at bay, cared for him, maybe even a little more than was good for her, Astoria just couldn’t picture it. Draco still had a long way to go to get his own life back on track before he could become a husband and father.

“What’s so funny?” her mother demanded to know.

“Nothing,” Astoria replied, still chuckling. “Draco and I are friends. Neither one of us is looking to start a family anytime soon.”

“Ah well,” her mother said eventually. “One shouldn’t lose hope.”

With a smile, Astoria looked at her mother and she could still see the hint of worry on her face. “I’m happy the way things are now. I really am,” she promised her. But then, something else came to her mind. “But what was that about Dad not agreeing? He invited Draco to see the game with him this weekend.”

“It’s nothing,” Eudora Greengrass replied with a smile. Astoria didn’t know whether she should actually believe her. “You’re his youngest. You will always be his little girl and the idea of you marrying someone scares him a little. That’s all.”

“Well, in that case, there’s nothing for him to worry about,” Astoria concluded and then made her way past her mother towards the fridge. After the adventure of the last two days, Astoria felt hungry. She wanted nothing more than a nice breakfast, a shower and some time to herself to ponder their plan.

* * *

Draco knew how ominous it looked to walk into a shop and buy all the ingredients for Polyjuice Potion in one place, so he spent his morning visiting various apothecaries and herbal shops in Diagon Alley to gather all the supplies he needed. While the potion wasn’t exactly banned under the new Ministry rules, the use of it was now heavily restricted and he knew that even an enquiry about it could end with a pair of Aurors showing up on his doorstep. Boomslang skin and Knotgrass were the easiest to come by and Draco purchased those at the large shop just around the corner. The owner didn’t even bat an eye, probably assuming Draco was out to brew Knotgrass Mead. Leeches were even less of a problem. Powdered bicorn horn was another matter entirely. It was rare and used only for complex and slightly dubious potions, so the apothecary raised a wary eyebrow at Draco as soon as he had voiced his request. Nevertheless, since he couldn’t prove that Draco had any ill intents, the old man handed it over and let Draco resume his tour around Diagon Alley. Yet no matter how hard he tried, the last ingredient was nowhere to be found.

It was noon by the time Draco had given up his search and Apparated straight to Malfoy Manor in the hopes of finding the last ingredient. At the sound of his appearance, his mother came hurrying into the room and, once she had realised that he wasn’t a mad burglar, her face lit up.

“Oh, you’ve stopped by for lunch!” she exclaimed happily and instantly greeted him with a soft embrace. Draco hugged her back, realising that since he had moved out, he actually felt a pleasant sense of joy upon seeing his mother. “It’s good to see you!”

Even though Draco hadn’t actually intended to stay for lunch, he didn’t feel the need to point it out to his mother and the smell of a nice, elf-cooked meal made him realise how hungry he really was. A few minutes later, he found himself sitting in the dining room, smiling at his mother from across the table.

With a happy sigh, she granted him another smile. “I must admit, the thought of you moving out terrified me when you first mentioned it,” Narcissa Malfoy admitted, unable to take her eyes off him. “But I think you made the right decision. I can’t remember the last time you actually looked happy.”

Draco said nothing and merely smiled back at her. Even though the bad memories still tugged at him whenever he was at Malfoy Manor, Draco didn’t feel their weight as much as he had when he still lived under this roof. Or maybe it was his father’s absence and his mother’s warm expression that helped keep the shadows at bay.

“You should try to get more sleep, however,” his mother noted. “I can see that you’ve been up late.”

Draco chuckled in response and his heart skipped a little beat when he thought of what had kept him awake. Running around Muggle London with Astoria, getting in a snowball fight. He even wondered what had become of Snowy by now and whether Muggle children had already vandalised their piece of art. He said nothing about it to his mother, knowing that she was unlikely to approve.

“I was up late with Astoria and Blaise,” he said instead. “We just sat and chatted and completely lost track of time.”

At the mention of those names, Narcissa Malfoy’s features froze. “You probably shouldn’t mention that name to your father. He is still very angry at that healer for what happened at St. Mungo’s.”

Now it was Draco’s turn to freeze. “But you told me to invite her over for dinner,” he argued. “Why did you do that if Father still holds a grudge against her?”

“I never said your father had to be present during dinner,” his mother replied. “I mean, it’s not like he’s present right now. Or has been all week. When you moved out, it finally gave him an excuse to stop this farce of pretending we’re still a normal family.”

The bitterness in his mother’s voice surprised Draco. Ever since he could remember, Narcissa Malfoy had had his father’s back. She had endured his stunt as a Death Eater, the imprisonment, endured having Voldemort in her own home, always acting like it was the cross she just had to bear, like it didn’t even leave a mark. She had smiled and endured. Maybe, Lucius Malfoy wasn’t the only one who had stopped pretending.

Yet all of that opened up a new problem for Draco to solve.

“Well, we’re going to have to come up with a solution,” he said, “because I invited Astoria over and she agreed. She’ll be joining us for dinner on Christmas Eve.”

“Christmas dinner?” His mother’s eyes widened.

“Yes,” Draco confirmed. “I want her here on Christmas and if Father says even one word to her, you can tell him I am never coming back home ever again.”

He watched as his mother swallowed hard. Eventually, she gave a nod. “I will make sure that he behaves himself,” Narcissa Malfoy replied.

They continued their meal in silence for a while and as much as he loved living on his own, far away from the manor, it made Draco realise that he really missed Dibly’s cooking. Maybe, he could borrow his parents’ elf once or twice a week. But as he thoughts trailed to his own kitchen at home, he remembered the stack of ingredients that awaited him there and he also remembered the one ingredient that was still missing.

“Listen, Mother, you don’t happen to have some lacewings at home, do you?” he asked, trying his best to sound casual.

His mother merely shrugged. “Of course we do. I use them for my hair potion. They’re in the kitchen cupboard,” she said.

To his relief, Draco’s mother never asked and she didn’t even seem to think twice about giving him a rare ingredient that might be used for more or less dubious potions. In fact, Narcissa, who had smiled upon his arrival, kept a straight face for the rest of the afternoon, obviously lost in thought. Draco wondered whether she was trying to come up with a way to tell his father that Astoria would be joining them for Christmas, but she never said another word about that. That was a problem his parents would have to solve among themselves.


	26. Chapter 26

Astoria hadn’t lied. She really was exceptionally bad at potion-making.

Because the Polyjuice Potion needed to stew for twenty-one days, they had decided to get started straight away and were now bustling through Draco’s kitchen in their attempt to complete the first stage of the potion. Draco had offered to do most of the work since Astoria had expressed her dislike for potions on several occasions, but she was also eager to learn and merely asked his instructions while Draco watched from a distance.

“I think you’re trying to either kill us or set my kitchen on fire,” he said eventually when he could no longer bear to look at the mess she was making of it. Normally, Draco lacked the patience, but when Astoria did it, he actually found it quite endearing.

Draco stepped up behind her and gently took her wrist, guiding her hand around the cauldron where the potion was beginning to heat up. With a careful circulating motion, he helped her stir the contents.

“You have to do it gently,” he explained, “otherwise the potion will end up all over the kitchen table and I’m fairly certain that’s how you set the dungeons on fire in your first year. Please, don’t do that to my flat. I’m starting to grow fond of it.”

Astoria chuckled. “It looks so easy when you do it. How much longer?”

Draco checked the clock on the wall. “I think that should do,” he replied and once Astoria had dropped the spoon, he drew out his wand and waved it over the cauldron. Now, it only needed to stew for an eternity.

“Now we need hair from good-looking Muggles,” he said. The thought of turning into someone else didn’t actually appeal to Draco, not after he had heard Crabbe and Goyle complain about transforming into girls, but it was necessary. Astoria and Blaise could probably get away with it, but he could hardly walk back into the secret society’s meeting place as himself.

“Didn’t Blaise say he would take care of that?”

Draco snorted in reply. “Forgive me, but I’m not trusting Blaise with picking whoever I’m going to look like. I still have _some_ pride left.”

Once again, Astoria chuckled. “I think you’ve got plenty of that left.”

“When you end up looking like a hag, I’ll remind you you said that,” he growled.

When Astoria pushed herself away from the kitchen table and began to approach him, Draco knew that the topic was about to change and he knew what she was going to say before Astoria had even opened her mouth. Today was Saturday and he had spent the entire morning trying very hard not to think about the afternoon even though a part of him was extremely excited about it.

“You should probably get ready,” Astoria noted after a while. “You don’t want to leave my dad waiting, do you?”

Draco inhaled deeply, feeling a deep hole opening up in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t even sure why he felt scared to meet Astoria’s father for the Quidditch match, but the fear threatened to overshadow the excitement completely. What if he made a bad impression? What if people recognised him and gave Aldrich Greengrass a hard time because he was socialising with a former Death Eater? What if it all went terribly wrong? The longer he thought about it, the more he began to realise that it wasn’t actually about Mr Greengrass but Astoria. He feared that, if things went awry, it would have implications on his friendship with Astoria. She was the first true friend he had made in his entire life and Draco wasn’t going to lose that.

“Stop worrying.” Astoria’s voice tore him out of his thoughts. By now, Draco had gotten used to the fact that he was an open book to her. He couldn’t hide anything from his best friend. “My father is cool. He likes you. Just be yourself and it will be okay.”

Draco nodded, but the uneasiness didn’t go away. The fact that Astoria believed in him only made the idea of possible failure a lot worse.

Heeding Astoria’s advice, Draco had decided against a dark suit and opted for a plain travelling cloak and he felt grateful as soon as he had arrived at the stadium. The people gathering around him were all dressed in a casual manner and many of them had come adorned with patches and scarves and hats in the colours of their favourite team. It wasn’t hard to see who exactly they were rooting for and just as Draco was beginning to wonder how he was ever going to find Aldrich Greengrass in this crowd, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Yet to his dismay, it wasn’t the friendly face of Astoria’s father that was looking at him.

“ _You_ ,” Ronald Weasley barked at him.

Instinctively, Draco took a step back and raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. The memory of their last interaction came back to his mind, the memory of how his magic had failed him again, how he had panicked, how he had ended up on Astoria’s front lawn, gasping for breath and thinking he was going to die. Not this time, Draco vowed to himself. He wasn’t going to lose face in front of Ronald Weasley once more.

“I’m just here to see the game,” Draco said, swallowing hard. He couldn’t get involved in a fight now, not when Astoria’s father might be watching.

Once again, Draco felt his heart accelerate at the idea of a fight and he thought about what Astoria had told him. He breathed in deeply.

“You just buggered off last time,” Weasley said, straightening his already broad shoulders. “I see you’re still a coward. Afraid you’d lose to me in a fair duel?”

Draco recognised what Ronald Weasley was doing because Draco himself had done it countless of times during his years at Hogwarts, back when he had still been the one with the important family name, when he had been the one with the power to tease and rile up other students. Now, the tables had turned and Ron clearly enjoyed playing for the winning team as much as Draco had enjoyed it back then. But he wasn’t going to fall for it.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Draco said simply. “I’m here to see the game and that’s all. And I’d appreciate it if you left me alone from now on.”

“Because you left us alone when we were at school,” Ron said and pulled out his wand.

Draco braced himself for the worst, but no matter what happened, he wasn’t going to fight back. Whatever curse Weasley threw at him, Draco knew that he deserved it.

“ _Ronald Weasley!_ An angry voice resounded even over the bustle of the stadium. There was little doubt as to who it belonged to even before Hermione Granger stepped into view. “Lower your wand this instance! I will not sit through another hearing at work just because you had to show off!”

If he hadn’t been so taken aback, Draco would have laughed at Weasley’s face and he was perfectly sure that he heard him mutter _just like my mother_ under his breath before he turned towards his girlfriend.

When Hermione had reached them, her eyes fell on Draco and from her expression, Draco could tell that she was at least considering a change of mind. Draco was half afraid she was going to tell Ron to curse him anyway, but nothing happened. Instead, her face took on a more neutral expression.

“I’m sorry if my husband was bothering you,” Hermione said in a tone that betrayed she wasn’t sorry at all, merely annoyed that Ron had to be so public about it. “But he occasionally forgets that he never passed his Auror training.”

From one moment to the next, Draco’s mouth fell open. He wasn’t entirely sure what surprised him more - the fact that Weasley and Granger were now married or the fact that Ron wasn’t actually an Auror at all.

“I’m sorry, too,” Draco replied eventually. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“You say that, but I don’t actually believe you,” Ron spat before Hermione punched him in the ribs.

“Ah, there you are!”

Draco turned around and, at last, he spotted the familiar face of Aldrich Greengrass. The friendly smile felt like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders.

Then, Astoria’s father turned towards Hermione. “Hello, Mrs Granger-Weasley,” he said excitedly and went to shake her hand, then Ron’s, “people don’t see you outside your office very often.”

“Lots do to, Mr Greengrass,” she replied. It was then that Draco realised they probably saw each other quite often inside the Ministry building.

When Mr Greengrass turned towards Draco again, he was chuckling. “People are betting on who will be the next Minister of Magic and Mrs Granger-Weasley is quite high up on that list.”

At that, Hermione blushed scarlet-red.

“Ah well, we should probably get going,” he said. “Before it’s a hassle to reach the seats.”

With his hand on Draco’s shoulder, Aldrich Greengrass pulled Draco along and even though the situation could have been a lot more uncomfortable, he felt relieved to be away from Weasley and Granger.

“Friends from school?” Astoria’s father wanted to know.

Draco shook his head. “More like the opposite. We never really got along.”

To his surprise, Mr Greengrass waved it off. “Half the Ministry is afraid of Mrs Granger-Weasley,” he said with a chuckle. “She’s brilliant but fierce.”

On the way to their seats, they were stopped a few more times by people who obviously knew Mr Greengrass from work or elsewhere. Whenever Draco felt them glancing at him, Astoria’s father made a point of introducing him as if these people hadn’t already guessed his identity. After all, his face had graced the front page of the Prophet a few years ago, yet no one dared to comment on the presence of a former Death Eater in front of Astoria’s father. Draco wasn’t sure whether they really no longer cared or whether Aldrich Greengrass was so popular that no one dared to question him. Maybe, it was a little bit of both. Out here, mingling with the crowd, Draco really felt like someday, he might walk among them and not be immediately associated with the dark shadows Voldemort had cast over this country.

The Quidditch match itself was nothing short of _wild_ and it seemed that the atmosphere was carried through the crowd itself. Already as the first brooms rushed past him, Draco felt a longing he hadn’t experienced in years. To just climb on a broom and soar up into the sky, it was the best feeling he had experienced. Ever since he had been allowed to Apparate, his father had called all other means of transportation _childish_ or _unworthy of a Malfoy_ , so his old Nimbus 2001 had gathered dust in the back of his closet ever since. Yet as Draco watched the game unfold, he thought that maybe it was time to revive his old passion. Even the golden Snitch whizzed past his nose once before it hurried off and the wisp of wind from the Seeker’s broom caused his cloak to blow up. Aldrich Greengrass began to shout as a Bludger nearly missed the Seeker of the Falmouth Falcons and Draco soon found himself joining in the cheers of the crowd as they scored their first goal.

The Falmouth Falcons ended up winning the match by only a couple of points, a narrow victory, but a victory nonetheless and their success was still palpable as the crowd slowly dissolved and people started to leave their seats.

“Thank you for taking me to the game, Mr Greengrass,” Draco said once they had left the stadium. “It was excellent.”

“Call me Aldrich,” Astoria’s father repeated what he had already said at breakfast. “And you’re absolutely right. The Tornados were formidable, but the Falcons did well. I’m proud of them.”

Even though Draco had been equally excited and terrified, the day had turned out a lot better than he thought it would. Apart from the brief run-in with Weasley and Granger, everything had gone extremely well and Draco thought that his heart felt about a hundred pounds lighter now. He hadn’t messed up. He hadn’t offended Aldrich Greengrass or jeopardised his friendship with Astoria in any way. Today had been an excellent day and he could hardly wait to go home and tell Astoria just how grateful he felt.

Then, Aldrich Greengrass came to a sudden halt next to him, causing Draco to stop as well. “May I have a word with you, Draco?”

There was a gravity in his voice which Draco hadn’t heard before and with a sinking feeling, he realised that his day was about to get a little worse. Not all was as great as he had assumed.

When Draco gave a short nod, Aldrich didn’t waste another moment before he continued. Draco genuinely dreaded what was to come.

“I think you’re a decent young man,” Astoria’s father began and Draco felt his heart sink into his boots. No matter how nice it started, he could feel the gigantic _but_ coming. “That business with your father and the Death Eaters, I don’t believe for a second that you actually wanted to be part of that as a sixteen-year-old kid and even if you had fantasies about being a powerful wizard under Voldemort’s reign, you couldn’t have known what it really meant. So just to get that out of the way, I’m not blaming you for what happened back then.”

Draco stood as still and unmoving as a tree, waiting for the moment Aldrich Greengrass said he no longer wanted him to see Astoria. He could feel the words before they had even been spoken.

“But I also know that it’s hard to move on and I’m equally proud of Astoria that she has decided to help you and terrified for her. She’s always been a bit of a lone wolf, very much unlike her sister, and she has always chosen her few friends carefully. I want her to go out and mingle, I want her to enjoy her youth and if she has chosen you as a friend, if that makes her happy, then so be it.”

Draco inhaled deeply, taking a guess at what her father was trying to say. “But you would have chosen someone else to be her friend.”

Aldrich Greengrass took a step closer, his eyes boring straight into him. Then, he raised his index finger in a warning gesture. “But Astoria is and always will be my little girl and if you get her into trouble, if your past gets her into trouble, I will personally make sure that you will never get another chance to hurt her. Is that understood?”

He nodded. Draco had no other choice under the threatening glances and the hushed, dangerous voice.

“And I want to make sure that we are talking about friendship here, right? If it was up to my wife, she’d be shopping for wedding decor and picking out baby names for your children already, but that will never happen,” he said in a sharp, determined manner.

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He was too baffled by the statement to even say a thing. His mother had already insinuated it, Blaise had dropped an even less subtle hint, but hearing it from Aldrich Greengrass was something else entirely. The thought had never even crossed his mind, mainly because Draco hadn’t allowed himself to think about it after swearing up and down he was never going to get married or have children. But what if…

“Before the war, I might have agreed, but I want more for my daughter than a family name that will earn her suspicion and fear wherever she goes and I want more for her children, too.”

Even before Draco could think any further about it, he found himself nodding, knowing he possibly doomed himself by agreeing. He didn’t care. “I agree,” he replied weakly before he gathered all the determination that he could muster. He was only speaking the truth. “Astoria deserves better than that. And as I’ve said, we’re just friends.”

Aldrich Greengrass seemed content with his answer and made an attempt to leave, but Draco wasn’t quite finished yet.

“And I care about Astoria,” Draco added. “She is the kindest, most enthusiastic, bafflingly optimistic person I’ve ever met. She is the first person who actually cares about me outside of my own family and I would never do anything to hurt her.”

Her father looked at him in silence for a long moment, obviously considering something. When he finally spoke, the lightheartedness still hadn’t returned to his voice. “Then it’s even more important that you don’t forget what you just agreed to a few moments ago.”

Aldrich Greengrass Disapparated, leaving Draco to stand alone on a nearly abandoned field in front of the stadium, leaving him to wonder what the hell had just happened.


	27. Chapter 27

The snow had reached even Wiltshire and Malfoy Manor lay beneath a thick, heavy blanket of snow, making it look less like the dark family home he had left behind and more like a fairytale castle. Yet even in the waning light of the sun, nothing about the house gave away what time of year it was. Back in Diagon Alley, the spirit of Christmas had invaded the street weeks ago and every building was adorned with fir branches and magical lights that illuminated the dark evenings. Malfoy Manor, however, lay in complete darkness save for the light coming from the windows. 

As they stepped through the gate, Draco felt Astoria reach for his hand and it put a smile on his face. Somehow, in the last few months, the gestured had stopped to surprise him and he wove his fingers into hers, chuckling to himself.

“Ice fingers,” he joked quietly as they walked up to the manor.

“My hands aren’t _that_ cold,” Astoria replied. There was a hint of anxiety in her voice and Draco could hardly blame her. He felt nervous, too.

“My fingers are going to freeze off,” Draco complained jokingly. “All because of you.”

He didn’t have to wait long for her revenge because seconds later, Astoria nudged him roughly in the ribs, making him laugh. Even here, under the grim prospects of a family dinner with his parents, Astoria had a way of making things seem lighter. It was as if her mere presence was enough to let him believe everything was going to be okay. As the light from the windows began to illuminate her face, Draco stole a glance in Astoria’s direction. To anyone else, she would have looked stunningly beautiful tonight, but Draco had known her long enough to recognise the soft lines on her forehead for uneasiness. He really couldn’t blame her. Draco had felt just like that before meeting her parents.

And he had been right to feel that way.

Looking at Astoria as they approached Malfoy Manor, clutching her hand tightly in his, Draco wondered whether he had made a big mistake. The promise he had made to Aldrich Greengrass, the promise to never marry Astoria or be with her in any other fashion than friendship, kept floating through his head and he had no idea how he felt about it. All Draco knew was that when he was with Astoria, the world seemed a little less murky. Like the North Star, she symbolised a little bit of light when everything else was drenched in darkness. Hearing her laugh, seeing her smile, even just looking into her deep, brown eyes made his heart flutter inside his chest. Holding her hand, just like he was right now, made Draco wish he never had to let go. He didn’t know when it had started, he didn’t know whether it was going to go away and he didn’t know whether it meant that he had, at some strange point in the last few months, fallen in love with her. And how would he? Love wasn’t something that had ever happened to Draco before, so how could he ever hope to recognise it? Yet ever since Aldrich Greengrass had forbidden him to marry his daughter, Draco found himself questioning whether that was what he secretly wanted. He didn’t have an answer, but in the back of his mind, Draco knew that her father had been right to make him promise. Whatever happened, whatever Draco felt about her, Astoria certainly deserved better than a life of suspicious glances and accusations. Draco didn’t wish what he was experiencing on anyone, least of all Astoria.

An eternity seemed to have passed before they reached the front door of Malfoy Manor and, at the same time, they arrived much too soon for his taste. Astoria inhaled deeply next to him and then blew the air out between her teeth. Whether it calmed her or not, Draco never knew.

“It’s going to be fine,” he said.

“Are you saying this to me or to yourself?” Astoria wanted to know.

Draco chuckled once more. Yes, Astoria made everything seem brighter. “Both?” he suggested right as the front door opened.

“Dibly is so excited to see you, young Master Malfoy! And Miss Astoria!” the elf exclaimed happily, bowing so deep that her nose touched the floor while beckoning them to enter. “Please, come inside! Dinner is almost ready!”

Astoria had been inside the house once before, back when she had made a house call to a grumpy, desperate Draco Malfoy who hadn’t wanted anything to do with her. That had been mere months ago, yet it seemed like a memory from another lifetime. Still, as they followed Dibly through the entrance hall in the direction of the sitting room, Draco noticed Astoria glance around the place as if seeing it for the first time and he found himself wondering just what kind of impression his family home was making on her. After all, the cottage of her parents was small and homely compared to the dark vastness of Malfoy Manor.

“How do you not get lost on your way to the kitchen?” Astoria wanted to know, her eyes jumping from a portrait to a set of expensive drapes and back to the muffling carpet.

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. You get used to it, I suppose,” he explained. “Besides, we’re just using the east wing. I haven’t set foot in the west wing since I was playing tag with Dobby as a kid. Mother always got worried I’d get eaten by dust mites.”

Even if Astoria had wanted to reply, she never got a chance as they walked around the corner and were greeted by a smiling Narcissa Malfoy. Draco could tell by her choice of dress and demeanour that she had decided to make an effort tonight, whether she liked Astoria or not.

“Hello,” she greeted them happily and extended a hand towards Astoria. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Astoria smiled back as she shook hands with his mother, but Draco could still see a hint of uneasiness. “Thank you so much for the invitation, Mrs Malfoy.”

When it was Draco’s turn, he greeted his mother with a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Mother,” he said and then looked at her. “Where’s Father?”

The smile remained on her face, but it had taken on a rather fake look. Apparently, their relationship hadn’t improved in his absence. “He’s already in the dining room, very impatient for dinner to start. Let’s not keep him waiting any longer, shall we?”

Draco looked at Astoria and found her glancing back at him at the same time, so he nodded in her direction, indicating that it was going to be okay, and followed his mother to the dining room.

Lucius Malfoy had certainly looked better. Even though he was wearing one of his finest robes and his hair was neatly combed, Draco recognised the signs of sleep deprivation in his father because he had, up until recently, suffered from them as well. Dark shadows had formed under his eyes and the lines on his face seemed deeper than usual, which was only partly due to the frown he was throwing in their direction. His father hadn’t forgiven Astoria for what happened at the hospital.

“Good, you’re here.” He didn’t even bother with a formal greeting. “Let this Christmas dinner begin.”

The way he said _Christmas_ , Draco could have assumed his father was talking about something entirely revolting. Yet with a flick of his wand, Lucius conjured a Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Despite its glamour and light, the atmosphere inside the room didn’t change.

Draco looked at his mother even though he wasn’t quite sure what he was hoping for, but she merely shrugged her shoulders and offered him and Astoria a seat. Judging from the awkward beginning, Draco could already tell that it was going to be a long, long dinner.

“So, how are things at your new flat?” Narcissa asked after a while. The house-elf had already served the first course and they had been eating in silence up until this moment. “Have you settled in?”

He nodded. “Everything’s fine,” Draco replied, but he couldn’t think of anything else to add. His mother had already visited him there. She knew everything there was to know about his new place of living.

Luckily for him, Narcissa immediately continued. “How about you, Ms Greengrass? Are you still living at your parents’ estate?”

Astoria smiled and nodded once she had swallowed her bite. “I am,” she replied.

Obviously, Astoria felt just like he was feeling and couldn’t come up with a more elaborate reply. The room fell silent once again and the only sounds were the clatter of cutlery on plates. Draco inhaled deeply just to let the sound of his own breathing fill his ears. It was going to be the most awkward meal of his entire life and he had dined with Voldemort.

“My mother sends her regards, by the way,” Astoria said after a while.

Narcissa looked up, clearly surprised by the statement. Draco knew why that was. After the war, his parents had lost all social ties they had previously had.

“Eudora?” his mother asked in disbelief. “I haven’t heard from her in years. I hope she’s doing well?”

Astoria nodded. “She said you’re more than welcome to stop by for tea any time you like.”

Finally, a smile spread across his mother’s face and it lifted Draco’s spirits greatly to see her happy. He understood the isolation she was feeling because he had felt it, too, before he met Astoria. Maybe, bringing her to this awkward family dinner hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

However, his father soon burst Draco’s bubble of a quiet meal when he began to snort. “A pity invitation,” he spat. “I hope you’re not going to accept, Narcissa.”

His mother shot him a dark glance. “As far as I can tell, the invitation was extended to me and not you and I will accept whatever the hell I like,” she said calmly, but Draco felt a hint of rage hidden behind her composure. He had never heard her defy his father like that.

Then, his mother turned her attention back on Astoria, smiling earnestly. “Please, tell Eudora I’d be very happy to join her for tea.”

“I will,” she confirmed.

“Tell me, Ms Greengrass,” Lucius suddenly said. He had stopped eating and had his eyes fixed on Astoria with a malicious glance. “How come your family allowed you to work at St. Mungo’s?”

There it was. The open hostility Draco had anticipated.

“Father,” he tried to interrupt, but Astoria wouldn’t let him. She met his father’s gaze defiantly and, with a gentle hand placed on his knee, she silenced Draco.

“I don’t need my family’s permission to live my life,” Astoria replied.

Lucius chuckled. “It’s just… well, let’s say, _unusual_ for a woman of your status to perform such dirty work. Women from pure-blood families such as yours usually find their calling in finding a husband and producing an heir. But then again, your family doesn’t really have all that much to bequeath, does it?”

Draco rose to his feet before he had even made the decision to act. All of his life, his father had tried to teach him manners and yet, here he was, insulting the only person that had ever been important to Draco in an attempt to drive her away. For more than twenty years, Draco had accepted his father’s behaviour, but, just like his mother, he wasn’t going to tolerate it any longer. If it was Lucius Malfoy’s goal to isolate himself from the rest of the world, then that was his choice. Draco was done following his father into that kind of hell.

“I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Astoria,” Draco spat. “In case you’ve forgotten, she saved my life. Twice. And you thank her by insulting her family?!”

“If it wasn’t for her, some other healer would have done that,” his father argued.

Lucius Malfoy didn’t even know how wrong he was. While it was true that any other healer could have patched him up, Draco knew that Astoria was the only one who could have achieved what she had. The physical wounds were only superficial. Draco had needed someone to show him a way out of the darkness. That was what Astoria had really done for him and it was something his father was never going to understand.

Draco opened his mouth, but once again, he was cut off. This time, by his mother.

“I think it’s time for dessert,” she announced, glowering at her husband.

In response, Lucius threw his napkin on the table and rose to his feet. “I’ve lost my appetite,” he spat and darted out of the room while everyone else watched him leave. No one, neither Draco nor Narcissa, tried to hold him back.

“I have to apologise for my husband,” his mother said eventually while Draco sat back down, now looking straight at Astoria. It sounded rehearsed, as if she had had to apologise for Lucius countless of times, but when she continued, his mother’s voice sounded like her own again. “I can’t speak for him, but I am very grateful for everything you did for my son. I may not have shown it at all times, but Draco has made it clear that he values you greatly, so I will do the same.”

Astoria nodded. “Thank you, Mrs Malfoy.”

* * *

After his father’s sudden departure, family dinner became a lot less awkward and forced. Even though his mother still seemed to regret the turn of events, she engaged in conversation with Astoria, asking her how she liked her job, sharing anecdotes about her mother Eudora and even making a joke every now and then. It seemed to Draco that she had almost forgotten how to interact with anyone who wasn’t her immediate family, but she was thawing slowly in Astoria’s presence just like he had. It was the effect she had on people, as if Astoria could make the world seem a little less grim just by existing. Every once in a while, Draco turned his head and smiled in Astoria’s direction. When this evening was over, he, too, would have to apologise for his father, but right now, she actually seemed to be enjoying herself.

After desert, while Astoria had decided to look at some of the art displayed on Malfoy Manor’s walls, Draco found himself in the kitchen with only his mother. She had fallen silent again and it seemed the brief moment of lightheartedness had evaporated again. Draco watched her for a moment as she placed the empty plates into the sink only to move them again because she had forgotten to add water first. Yet why she was doing the dishes when they had Dibly, Draco doubted even Narcissa knew. Maybe, she was merely looking for a way to keep her hands busy.

“Why don’t you just leave him?” Draco found himself asking before he could think better of it. He wasn’t even sure where the question had come from, but now that he had said the words, it felt like it had been obvious for a while.

His mother shot around. At first, her face was lined in a frown, then she burst into laughter. “Leave your father? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Draco stood there and watched her laugh. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but Narcissa didn’t stop. As she stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, laughing her devastating laugh, Draco realised for the very first time how small his mother was. Throughout his entire childhood, she had always seemed so tall, so beautiful, so powerful, but he realised now from her thin, tiny shape, from her shattering laugh, from the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes, that the war had broken her, too, just like it had broken her marriage. Draco took entirely too long to notice that her laugh had turned into sobs.

Not knowing what else to do, Draco stepped forward and closed his arms around his mother’s small shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. They had survived the war together, they could survive anything else, too. Even this.

Eventually, his mother’s sobs abated and she was beginning to calm down, yet Draco still held on to her, vowing to not let her go until she decided to step away. Before he had met Astoria, Narcissa was the only person who had ever truly cared about his wellbeing, who had always given her best to make sure he was safe, who had tried to protect him no matter what, even if it meant going against Voldemort himself. He would be damned if he abandoned his own mother now that she needed his support.

“I mean it,” Draco said quietly, “if staying here makes you unhappy, you have to get out. Let Father rot in his solitude if that’s what he wants, but don’t let him drag you down as well.”

Finally, Narcissa wriggled free from their embrace and when she looked at him, she was smiling even though her eyes were still red from crying. “I made a promise to your father on our wedding day,” she said calmly.

“I bet he made all sorts of promises, too,” Draco growled, “before he got himself involved with the Dark Arts, before he drove this family to ruins. That’s on him, not you. You can just walk away from all of it.”

Still smiling, Narcissa shook her head.

“Why not?!” he demanded to know.

The smile faded from her lips and when she spoke, her voice was calm and even. “Because, despite it all, I still love him. Because I still have hope.”

Draco wanted to ask why, he wanted to ask how she could still believe that Lucius Malfoy might change, but he knew the effort was wasted. When he tried to turn away and leave, he felt Narcissa reach for his hand as she gently pulled him back.

“Draco,” she said softly, “don’t listen to your father.”

A frown appeared on his face. After two decades of hearing that his father was infallible, two decades of trying to please him, that was the last thing Draco had expected to hear and he didn’t even have a clue as to why she was saying it now.

“I was wrong before,” Narcissa admitted. “About Astoria. I think she might just be the best thing that could have happened to you. Don’t listen to your father when it comes to her. Listen to your heart.”

“Astoria and I-”

Draco was about to say that they were nothing more than friends, but deep down, he knew that it was a lie and that his mother had realised that, too. Astoria wasn’t just a friend, she was his soulmate. At this moment, Draco knew that he was never going to feel this way for another person ever again in his entire life. Friendship, love, none of that mattered in the least as long as he had Astoria in his life.

And suddenly, Draco understood one more thing. It was the way his mother had felt about his father when they first met and even decades of darkness couldn’t erase the bond between them. If Narcissa’s hopes and dreams were misplaced, that bond would be her ruin. Maybe, one day, it would be his as well.


	28. Chapter 28

Malfoy Manor’s ancestral hall was just as dark and intimidating as the rest of the house. Following Draco’s instructions along the corridors, Astoria had found the paintings at last and gazed at them for quite some time, hoping for him to join her eventually. Yet when the stifled sobs of Draco’s mother had found their way through the walls, Astoria knew that it was best to give them space. She certainly didn’t blame Narcissa for crying, but she had a feeling that more witnesses weren’t needed in this intimate moment between mother and son. So her feet had carried Astoria further down the corridors, deeper into the maze that was Draco’s family home, until she had spotted the dark green family crest of the Malfoys - an escutcheon bearing their initial, which was framed on both sides by a wyvern. Even two snakes had found their way into the crest, winding around a spear. If Astoria focused hard enough, she was almost sure she could hear them hiss. Then, her eyes fell on the letters beneath the large, silver M.

“Sanctimonia Vincet Semper,” a dark, growling voice said as if reading her mind right before Astoria heard Lucius Malfoy’s footsteps drawing closer.

The dark corridor was beginning to grow brighter when, one by one, the candles on the walls came to life where Draco’s father walked past, casting light on a large number of family portraits that framed the walls. He said nothing at all until he came to a halt next to Astoria, right in front of one of the more recent portraits of the Malfoy family. Even though he was silent, Lucius’s presence was palpable, leaving her with little doubt that the intention of his entrance was to intimidate her. Astoria decided then and there that she was not going to let it affect her, not from a man who spent his days hiding behind the walls of his estate and his money like a coward.

Instead, Astoria followed his gaze to the most recent portrait of the Malfoy family - Lucius, Narcissa and Draco, all looking glum in their dark cloaks. Judging from Draco’s pale skin and Lucius’s gaunt face, she assumed it had been painted during the war, not long after Draco’s father had escaped from Azkaban. No one smiled and they all stood apart as if none of them had been able to bear letting the other close, as if the war had already driven a wedge between them. Glancing down the corridor, Astoria’s theory was confirmed because, as the years went on, the Malfoy family pulled apart further and further.

“Your painter is very talented,” Astoria said eventually when she had grown tired of the silence.

Lucius Malfoy ignored her remark. “Do you know what it means? Our family motto?”

“Purity will always conquer,” she replied. Astoria got the feeling that he was trying to make a point, but whatever it was, Lucius Malfoy was sure to come to that eventually.

He turned around and nodded towards one of the older portraits behind Astoria’s back. Looking at it, she judged it to originate from the middle ages.

“Armand Malfoy,” Draco’s father explained, “was the first of our family to come to this country. This land was given to him by William the Conqueror himself. Ever since, we have strived to keep our blood pure, choosing our spouses wisely so as to ensure our children would keep the Malfoy lineage alive. Every single portrait you see on these walls depicts a well-respected witch or wizard. That is the purpose of a Malfoy, _every_ Malfoy.”

Lucius Malfoy turned his head and looked right at her, his eyes gleaming with hatred and disgust. “Your portrait will never have a place on these walls, Ms Greengrass.”

Astoria swallowed hard. From the mention of their family motto, she had had a feeling where this conversation might go, but she hadn’t expected Draco’s father to be so blunt about it. Nevertheless, she decided to cling to her resolve of not giving in. Instead, she chuckled. “You should remove your own portraits, then,” she suggested. “Because as far as I know, you’re not that well-respected anymore.”

Lucius reached into his pocket and drew out his wand, but Astoria had seen it coming and raised her own in defence as well. Now they stood in the corridor, glaring at each other.

“How dare you raise your wand against me in my own home?!” Lucius spat at her.

“Same way you raised your wand against me at my place of work, Mr Malfoy,” she replied harshly. “And I already told you then that you cannot threaten or buy me. I have never been afraid of anything and I won’t start now.”

After a moment of hesitation, Lucius Malfoy did something that surprised her. He chuckled and eventually lowered his wand. It disappeared inside the pocket of his cloak. “Ms Greengrass,” he sneered, “everyone is afraid of something. The fact that you’re not doesn’t prove you’re free of fear. It just proves that you haven’t had anything to lose. _Yet._ ”

With that, Draco’s father spun around on his heels and walked away, still chuckling to himself while Astoria was left to frown at his disappearing shape.

“I look forward to finding out what frightens you, Ms Greengrass, because when brave people are afraid, that fear might just destroy them.”

Draco found her shortly after while she was sitting on a nearby chaise lounge and still inspecting the portraits, trying very hard not to think about what Lucius had said to her. Had she, at any given point, assumed this family dinner would be easy? Certainly not. Yet she hadn’t counted on open hostility either and her only comfort was Narcissa’s words. Was this how Draco had felt upon meeting her own family? Had he hoped for their acceptance, too?

“When you said you wanted to look at the art, I didn’t think you meant our old portraits,” Draco said and sank down on the chaise lounge right next to her. It creaked gently under his weight and Astoria assumed it was as old as some of the portraits.

Instead of replying, she raised her hand and pointed at one particular image, smiling. “That one’s my favourite, I think.”

A young Draco, possibly eight or nine years of age, was zooming around the garden on a small broomstick. He was dressed in a light cloak, the badge of a famous Quidditch team pinned to his chest, and he was grinning back at her as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. It was the only one of the newer portraits in which the subject did more than uncomfortably shuffle their feet.

When Astoria glanced at Draco, he was smiling, too. “That was my first proper broom,” he explained. “Before that, all I had were toy brooms, but that one was real. A Nimbus 1700. I got it for my ninth birthday and I was flying in the garden, pretending to play for the Holyhead Harpies.”

“You look very happy,” Astoria noted.

Draco nodded, but even while the smile was still visible on his lips, the rest of him looked sad. “I was, for a while. All I wanted was to play Quidditch. I wanted to be a professional player. I begged and begged and begged, but Father would never practise with me. He didn’t miss a single opportunity to let me know how childish I was.”

“You _were_ a child,” she argued. Astoria looked back at the family portraits and thought about what Draco’s childhood had been like. She didn’t even have to ask to know that his parents had probably showered him with presents, but the one thing his father had never given him was love. What lengths had Draco gone to just to prove that he was worthy of his father’s love and attention? What sacrifices had he made in vain? In so many ways, Astoria had been a richer child. The next question that came out of her mouth seemed to take Draco by surprise. “Do you think you’ll ever reconcile with your father?”

He turned his head, staring at her. Astoria could see that he wanted to deny it, but something kept him thinking. When he spoke again, his voice seemed uncertain. “I’d like to,” Draco admitted. “Even if it’s just to have peace. But I don’t see how. I don’t think my father wants peace at all. I think he would give anything to get his old life back instead of looking for a new one.”

As sad as it was, Astoria couldn’t help but agree.

Then, suddenly, Draco’s mood seemed to shift and he turned to look at Astoria once more, smiling. “Hey, I know we agreed on dinner with my parents, but how would you like to extend that to breakfast?”

A little taken aback by the sudden suggestion, Astoria frowned at him.

“I just spoke to my mother and I’d hate for her to spend Christmas morning on her own. I don’t think Father is going to come out of his office for the next few days and even if-”

“It won’t be a very harmonious Christmas,” she finished his sentence.

Draco nodded gravely. Yet even though Narcissa had warmed up to Astoria after she had extended her mother’s invitation, Astoria had a feeling that maybe, she shouldn’t stay. Not because of Draco or Narcissa, but because she didn’t want to cause further tension between Lucius Malfoy and the rest of his family. And if she stayed, she thought that tension was exactly what was going to arise.

“I don’t know, Draco-” she tried to argue, but when he reached out to take her hand, the gesture silenced her and made her hesitate. Astoria had no idea how he did it, but somehow, Draco’s hands were always warm as they curled around her icy fingers. It felt strangely right and comforting. Then, Draco took her by surprise when he lifted her hands to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Ice fingers,” he said with a chuckle.

Astoria laughed with him, but the gesture made something leap inside her stomach. For a moment, she forgot they were sitting in the semi-darkness of Malfoy Manor where Lucius could walk around the corner at any given second and interrupt them. Right now, to her, no one else existed on the entire planet. Right now, she wondered what would happen if she just leaned forward and kissed him. The idea popped into her head at random like a strange, unsolicited thought. If someone had told Astoria a few months ago that she would consider kissing Draco Malfoy, she would have called them mad, but the more she got the know him, the more she liked him. There was a kindness hidden deep inside him, veiled by a rough and rude exterior, but once Astoria had breached his walls, she could no longer deny that it was there. It didn’t erase the cruel things he had said and done during his years at Hogwarts, it didn’t wipe his hands clean off what he had done during the war. All of that was part of the Draco Malfoy that was sitting right in front of her, all of that had contributed to making him the person he was now. A little lost, a little broken, but trying to do better. That was the part Astoria admired most about him. After a lifetime spent in the shadows of the Dark Arts, Draco was trying to break free, trying to unlearn everything that his father had taught him, and the road he had chosen was not going to be an easy one. Lucius Malfoy was proof of that. She doubted that even Draco knew how brave he was for trying.

“What are you looking at?” Draco’s question tore her out of her thoughts. His voice was wavering, shaking just a little as if it was afraid of the answer.

Astoria smiled, but her gaze remained fixed on his eyes. They were the same colour as the clouds on a stormy day. She could do it. Only a few inches separated her from him. Just a brief kiss to tell him how she felt about him. But under the incessant glances of the Malfoy family portraits, her courage faltered.

“Anyway,” Draco went on as if he had felt her mood shifting, “we have a very cosy guest bedroom.”

For a moment, Astoria had completely forgotten their previous conversation.

“And you haven’t actually seen the best thing about Malfoy Manor yet.”

She chuckled. “Is that the torture chamber or the closet full of skeletons?”

“Ah damn, you’ve discovered the torture chamber already,” Draco joked. “I was keeping that as a surprise.”

They both shared a laugh for a moment, and Astoria could see that Draco had needed that tonight. She could also see why he wanted to stay with his mother for a while longer even though he was probably not comfortable with staying in his old room either. It was to show her the kindness that he had kept hidden for so long. Months ago, Astoria had made the decision to help Draco. She had decided the moment he had willingly given her his memories, when he had trusted her and allowed her access to the darkest moments of his life, knowing full well it would show his most vulnerable side to someone who was essential a stranger. The moment Astoria had smashed the vial containing his memories was the moment she had decided to stay with him. He had come far since that day at St. Mungo’s.

“Of course I’ll stay,” she replied with a smile.

Draco rosed to his feet, never letting go of her hand, and pulled her up with him. Astoria let him lead her back through the corridors, but not without glancing back one last time to look at the Malfoy family portraits. For a brief moment, she caught herself envisioning a new painting on these walls, one that was not yet painted and maybe never would. A picture of Draco and her, side by side.


	29. Chapter 29

Astoria couldn’t sleep. While the guest bedroom looked absolutely lovely with its comfortable four-poster bed, soft carpet and tasteful, green drapes, it felt as crushing and oppressive as the rest of the house. Not even the soft pyjamas Dibly had brought her could make Astoria feel any less like the ghosts of all the Malfoy ancestors had come to her room to judge her. Most of that, she knew, was Lucius Malfoy’s fault because the conversation they had had kept replaying in her mind over and over again.

_Everyone is afraid of something. The fact that you’re not doesn’t prove you’re free of fear. It just proves that you haven’t had anything to lose._

Draco’s father knew that she had lied to him about her fear, but it was far too personal to share with someone that she hardly knew, someone who was trying to threaten her. In fact, even Astoria herself rarely thought about it at all because that particular fear was so far into her own future that it would be a waste to spend her time wondering about it. Lucius Malfoy could wait forever and he wouldn’t see her scared.

Yet as the house creaked and cracked around her, Astoria couldn’t find peace. Not knowing what else to do, she rose from the comfort of her bed, reached for the robe that was hanging over a nearby chair and put on her slippers. Even if the ghosts of Draco’s ancestors didn’t want her here, they would just have to deal with her presence.

The corridors of Malfoy Manor were enchanted with a simple spell, so wherever she went, candles came to life to guide her through the darkness, though where she was going, Astoria didn’t know. The house was not unlike a labyrinth and she wouldn’t even have been all that surprised to find herself face to face with a Minotaur. The longer she remained in this place, the better she seemed to understand Draco. Growing up here, surrounded by all of that darkness, it was no surprise that he had grown curious about the Dark Arts as a child. Yet she also felt the terror and the fear these walls had witnessed and it was almost like the shadow of Voldemort still lurked behind the corner. As Astoria turned around it, it wasn’t the snake-like face of the evil wizard that awaited her but the entrance to the sitting room.

A fire was crackling in the chimney, casting its warmth and golden glow in her direction and illuminating a small figure sitting in an armchair by the fire, completely lost in a book on her lap. Astoria hoped that she had been quiet enough not to attract her attention and was about to retreat when Narcissa Malfoy turned around and looked straight at her.

“I’m sorry,” Astoria found herself apologising. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Even though Narcissa’s face lay in the shadow cast by the nearby fire, she could hear the smile and sincerity in her voice. “You’re not intruding. Please, come inside.”

Carefully, Astoria stepped a little closer. “I feel a bit like an intruder in this house,” she admitted, knowing how silly it would sound if she said the house didn’t want her here.

“The house can have that effect on people,” Draco’s mother replied as she gestured towards the second chair. When Astoria sat down, she remembered sitting right there once before back when she had made a house call to Draco. “But I can assure you that my son wants you here very much.”

Astoria breathed a sigh of relief. She knew how Draco felt about her presence, but she hadn’t been sure about his mother. Narcissa’s acknowledgement of Draco’s wishes was enough for her. Lucius Malfoy, however, was another matter entirely.

“When I first moved into this house, I was convinced that it was haunted,” Narcissa admitted with a hint of a laugh. “Growing up with two sisters, there was always noise inside our home. Here, though, it was too quiet. I was aware of every little sound. There was a shadow behind every corner. The eyes of the portraits seemed to follow me around as if to test my will, as if they required proof I had what it took to call myself a Malfoy.”

Strangely enough, Astoria could relate to what Draco’s mother was saying. She could very well imagine what it must have felt like to move into this house as a young woman. She opened her mouth to ask how the story had ended, but Narcissa seemed to read her mind.

“It took me decades to learn that particular lesson, that there is nothing special about being a Malfoy at all. The name has no meaning,” she said. “It’s only about the people you love. Don’t let the house or the portraits try to tell you otherwise. If my son wants you here, you have every right to be here.”

When Draco’s mother smiled at her, Astoria felt a little surprised, but she smiled back regardless. Narcissa had chosen a strange lesson to teach her, but the longer she thought about, the more it sounded like the complete opposite of what Lucius had said to her only hours ago. Could it have been a strangely worded blessing?

“Did you get used to the house eventually?” Astoria asked.

Narcissa nodded. “Draco was born not long after we moved here and suddenly, there was life inside this house. It started to feel like a home. The man you met at dinner tonight is not the Lucius I married. He was different back then and, for a few years, we were very happy here.”

“I don’t think Draco would describe his childhood as particularly happy,” Astoria said and regretted it immediately. Narcissa had only just begun to warm up to her and for a second, Astoria was afraid that she had ruined the progress they had made.

To her surprise, Narcissa scoffed. “No,” she replied, “I don’t think he would. Lucius was a terrible father. My husband has many talents, but fatherhood was never one of them. The more he tried to make it right with Draco, the worse it got. I can forgive my husband for many things, but not for what he did to Draco. He was always such a lively boy, so full of love for flying and Quidditch and sweets and… Lucius took all of that away from him in an attempt to shape him after his own ideas. For a while, I thought I had lost Draco. I thought he would follow his father even into this particular kind of darkness and I couldn’t reach him. And then you happened.”

When Narcissa turned to look at her, Astoria felt completely taken aback. Not by her statement because Astoria was fully aware of her contribution to Draco’s change. She was the one who had given him the courage and support he had lacked and she was proud of what he had done with it. What shocked her was the fact that Narcissa admitted it. The haughty look had melted off Narcissa’s face and been replaced by a look of what Astoria could only describe as gratefulness.

“As a mother, I tried to do what I could, but Draco had needed someone else to believe in him,” she confessed. “I can see that now.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Astoria threw in. “Draco may have fallen out with his father, but he knows exactly what you’ve done for him. He loves and admires you and he still needs your support, whether he shows it or not.”

Narcissa remained silent for a while, but her gaze was fixed on Astoria, searching her face with a look of curiosity as if trying to read her thoughts. “You are an exceptional woman, Ms Greengrass,” Draco’s mother admitted. “It took someone like you to show my son what I’ve been trying to tell him for years.”

Suddenly, Astoria had a feeling that it was going in the same direction as her conversation with Draco’s father mere hours ago. Yet while he had made it clear that Astoria wasn’t good enough for his son, Narcissa was trying to do the exact opposite. Neither of them seemed to realise that friendship was all there was between them, despite Astoria’s confusing feelings.  
She opened her mouth to protest, but Narcissa Malfoy was quicker than that.

“You make Draco happy,” she said, “and that is all I need to know.”

Still trying to set things straight between her and Draco’s mother, Astoria attempted to speak again. This time, she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

* * *

Draco hadn’t realised how much he had grown used to his new flat until he was back at Malfoy Manor, back in his old room, lying in his old bed. Mere months had passed since he had left it behind and yet, it felt like the room had belonged to a different person. It was strange how Draco still felt like himself, but while some things seemed to have simply dropped away, his life seemed a little fuller now that it was no longer limited to his parents’ home. He even raised his arm and pulled up his sleeve to have a look at the Dark Mark, something he had always dreaded. If there was an easy way to remove it, Draco would still do it in a heartbeat, but he no longer felt the need to chase wild and dangerous ideas. Instead of pulling him further into the darkness, the Mark was now merely a reminder of the war. Not pleasant to look at or think of, but not unbearable either. Draco had spent many hours talking about it to Astoria, talking about his fears and his doubts, and the more he shared with her, the smaller his problems really seemed. The idea that no one was ever going to accept him had always been the biggest fear among them all and Astoria had wiped that one away months ago. Even if he couldn’t make everyone forget about his past as a Death Eater, Astoria had given him hope that there were people out there willing to give him a chance.

When a cold wind blew in through the open window and brushed his skin, Draco pulled the sleeve back down and hid his arms under the duvet, hoping to finally find it comfortable enough to fall asleep, but no matter what he did, he just couldn’t find rest. Despite the breeze, the air still felt stifling, the room was cold and his thoughts kept wandering back to Astoria and the moment they had shared earlier. For a second, while she had gazed into his eyes, Draco had thought she was going to kiss him, crazy as it sounded. And no matter what he had promised her father, a part of him had hoped that she would. When she had pulled away eventually, Draco believed the moment had been nothing but a figment of his imagination, a projection of what he himself had wanted. And there was no denying that, he _had_ wanted to kiss Astoria. Even though they were only separated by a corridor, Draco, in his sleepless state, missed her, but he resisted the urge to get from his bed and see her. It would only disturb her sleep.

Just as Draco had decided that he would make another attempt at falling asleep and turned around in his bed, a strange scratching noise made his eyes fly back open. At first, he had thought it to be just another wizard shuffling past on the street below until he remembered that he wasn’t in his flat in Diagon Alley and they were no strangers around. Turning around in his bed to look for the source of the noise, Draco soon noticed the small tawny owl scratching its beak against the windowpane. It was holding a letter.

In a matter of seconds, Draco had jumped out of bed and opened the window to retrieve the letter from its carrier. He thanked the owl with a gentle pat on the head before it flew off into the night, leaving Draco alone with a small note in a handwriting that was still familiar to him from all the notes they had exchanged during their school years.

Draco’s face lit up. Now, he had a real excuse to wake up Astoria.

Once he had left his room, Draco was already about to turn left and head towards the guest bedroom where Astoria was sure to be sleeping, but a voice held him back. Frowning, he turned into the direction of the sitting room and, to his great surprise, he spotted Astoria right there, talking to his mother.

Narcissa turned to him and smiled. “Well, I better go to bed,” she said. “See you two in the morning.”

Wordlessly, Draco let her pass, but he still wondered what on earth his mother and Astoria had talked about in his absence.

“You talked to my mother?” he wanted to know as soon as she was safely out of earshot. A strange kind of fear began to creep up inside his stomach.

Astoria shrugged and merely smiled. “She’s nice. A little strange, but nice.” Then, she seemed to notice the letter in his hand and nodded towards it. “What is it?”

The shock of finding his mother and Astoria secretly talking behind his back had almost made him forget why he had stepped out of his room in the first place. In a swift gesture, he unrolled the parchment and started reading it out loud to Astoria.

“Hello Draco,” he began, reading Blaise’s note, “as promised, I got my hands on one of the enchanted coins a couple of days ago and tonight, it started to glow. Their next meeting will take place at 9 pm on New Year’s Eve. Let me know when you have the time to meet so we can discuss the details. Blaise.”

When he lifted his head to look at Astoria, her face seemed unreadable. Then, she blew the air out between her teeth. “Looks like we’re going to a New Year’s Eve party,” she noted. Then, her face turned into a smile again. “It’s been a while since I’ve worn a fancy dress.”

“You can still back out,” Draco reasoned, his voice cautious. “It’s going to be dangerous.”

“All the more reason why I can’t let you go in there alone,” she replied, grinning.

The news, mixed with the expression on Astoria’s face caused his stomach to cast a somersault. While a part of him was very glad to have her by his side, giving him courage and strength, another part was growing more worried by the minute. He would have to protect her from harm whatever the cost. Draco couldn’t, under any circumstance, lose Astoria.

With a sigh, Draco took another step closer. “I’d feel better if you stayed behind. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

When she reached out to take his hand, Draco felt ineffably grateful for the gesture even though he knew why she was doing it. She was trying to convince him. Yet no matter what her motives were, Draco appreciate the touch. “I don’t care what you promised my father,” Astoria said determinedly. “And I’m not stupid. I know my father. I know he made you promise _something_. You’ve been too quiet about the Quidditch match, so I guess he gave a speech about how you’re not to get me into trouble, but I don’t care. I will not be left out of this.”

Slowly, Draco nodded in confirmation. And yet he wondered what Astoria would do if she knew just what exactly he had promised her father.


	30. Chapter 30

Wading through the snow that reached up to their knees, Draco led the way towards the shed right after breakfast while Astoria followed him on his heels. All the way through the garden, she kept asking just what he wanted to show her, but Draco refused to say, knowing it was a surprise she was definitely going to like.

“They’re usually outside all year, but the snow is too deep for them right now,” he explained just before they had reached the door.

Astoria laughed, but there was also a small hint of annoyance in her voice. “I swear, if you don’t tell me what-”

Draco turned around and grinned at her. Then, without a warning, he opened the door to the shed and he watched Astoria’s eyes fall on the animal in front of her.

The peacock carefully poked his blue head out of the door before he dared to step out into the light. Even though he had never understood why his family kept peafowls because his father certainly never even looked at them, Draco had always admired the birds for their beauty and graceful demeanour. Admittedly, they could be quite noisy, but their looks more than made up for that. He couldn’t really imagine Malfoy Manor without their presence.

“They are beautiful,” Astoria saw, gawking at the peacock that had made his way outside, curious to see what was going on.

She stretched out her hands as if to touch it, but then pulled it back, throwing Draco an uncertain look. “Can I touch him?”

Draco chuckled. “I wouldn’t,” he admitted. “I mean, they tolerate it sometimes, but I wouldn’t risk it.”

Astoria heeded his advice and withdrew her hand. They both stood side by side, watching the peacock step forward to examine the snow, picking at it grumpily with his beak.

“You should see them in the spring,” Draco noted. “When all of their feathers have grown back.”

In response, she turned her head towards him and smiled. “I’d love to.”

When Draco looked over Astoria’s shoulder, his eyes suddenly fell on something else, something he had completely forgotten was kept in the shed as well. In a swift movement, he jumped past Astoria and walked over to the broom stand. He picked up his old Nimbus 2001 and just held its weight in his hands for a while. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had flown.

“Is that your famous broom?” Astoria wanted to know, nodding towards the Nimbus 2001.

Draco nodded and smiled. Sure, there were faster, more recent models on the market right now, but he still loved the elegance and the handling of this particular racing broom. He considered it for a moment, then handed it to Astoria.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” she asked, but took it from him regardless.

Grinning, Draco reached for the Nimbus 1700. “I’m going to show you the rest of the gardens. Flying will be quicker.”

At last, the smile on Astoria’s face faltered and a hint of fear became visible. “I’m really no good on a broom. I don’t usually fly much.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Draco promised her. “The Nimbus 2001 is the steadiest broom out there and we don’t have to fly very high. Come on, just a quick tour over the gardens.”

Astoria bit down on her lip, considering it for a moment.

“Plus, if you do fall, the snow is very soft,” he argued.

In return, Astoria glowered at him and before he knew was what happening, she had reached out and nudged him roughly. “If I fall, I expect you to catch me,” she complained jokingly.

“I will,” Draco promised, but Astoria kept on laughing as if she hadn’t realised that he was being serious. Right then and there, Draco somehow knew that there was probably nothing he wouldn’t do for Astoria.

With the peafowl securely locked back inside the shed, Draco and Astoria put some distance between them and the building and mounted their brooms on a snow-free patch of grass. She still didn’t seem entirely convinced it was a good idea, but she had decided to join him anyway. He pushed himself off the ground.

Once they were in the air, Draco’s eyes wandered immediately back to Astoria who was struggling a little bit, but held herself steadily enough. Her hands were tightened around the handle and she looked a little uneasy, but she hadn’t fallen off yet. “Everything okay over there?” he wanted to know.

“I don’t know why I let you convince me to do that,” she responded and looked down uncertainly.

Draco flew up to be on the same height as her broom, noticing for the first time how much he had missed being up in the air. Up here, on his broom, even if he wasn’t too far from the ground, his problems and worries all seemed to evaporate. As a child, he must have spent more time in the air than on the ground just for a moment of happiness.

“Let’s have a look at the grounds,” Draco suggested and carefully moved forward.

Astoria followed him, her broom wobbling a little, but the longer they remained in the air, the steadier she became. They had all had lessons in their first year at Hogwarts and there was a saying among wizards that once you learn to ride a broom, you never forget how it works, and that certainly held true for her as well. When they had circled the manor once, Astoria began to smile.

“Okay, maybe it’s not all that bad,” she admitted, “but I still think we have more practical means of transportation. Still, it’s not entirely unpleasant.”

Draco chuckled and then pointed towards a large, uneven patch of snow behind the house. “These are my mother’s flowerbeds.”

“Love the colours,” Astoria joked. “She has great taste. And your gardener seems very skilled.”

He laughed at that. The flowerbeds were another thing that just looked a lot better in spring. Even though the grounds surrounding Malfoy Manor were large, Draco decided to cut his tour short when he noticed Astoria shivering on her broom. Eventually, they landed safely in front of the entrance and stepped inside, the snow falling off their cloaks and scattering over the carpet where it melted in the warmth of the entrance hall. By now, Draco had to admit that he felt a little cold, too, even though his excitement about flying had previously covered it up.

“Would you like some hot cocoa to warm up?” Draco offered.

Astoria opened her mouth, but then her eyes fell on the large grandfather clock that decorated their hall. When she faced him again, she wore an apologetic smile on her lips. “I’d love to, but I have to go. My family will be waiting,” she explained.

Draco tried his best not to show how disappointed he felt, but he was afraid that he wasn’t entirely successful. The original plan had been to meet his parents for dinner and the overnight stay had merely postponed the inevitable goodbye, but that didn’t mean Draco had to like it. The more time he spent in Astoria’s presence, the harder it was to leave or watch her leave. Given the choice, he would choose to stay by her side until the end of time.

Yet Draco nodded and reached out to take her hands. He wasn’t surprised to find that they felt cool to the touch. To warm them up, he folded his palms around her fingers and guided them to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently. He had saved it for their moment of goodbye, but Draco realised that the time had come.

When he let go of her hands, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand to summon a neatly wrapped parcel right into his hand. “I got you a little something,” he explained, “for Christmas.”

Astoria’s eyes widened in response. “We never said anything about presents,” she argued instantly. “I didn’t get you anything.”

Draco chuckled softly and looked right at her. His heart was suddenly thumping inside his chest again, beating so fast that he could almost feel the adrenaline run through his veins. If he had been a braver man, he might have kissed her right then and there. Instead, he reached out and stroked a stray curl out of her face. The wind outside had blown it right over her eyes.

“You don’t ever have to get me anything,” Draco said before he could stop himself. “You being here… that’s more than I could have ever hoped for.”

Astoria smiled at him in return and Draco decided not to hesitate a moment longer and handed her the present. He had attempted to wrap it himself, but his fruitless attempts had looked like they were made by a toddler with ten thumbs, so he had asked Dibly for help. The elf had done a wonderful job and Draco watched excitedly as Astoria undid the bow and retrieved her present from the wrapping paper.

The smile on her face widened when she saw the pair of gloves. Searching for them had almost driven Draco to despair, so he had requested a pair of black gloves adorned with forest-green trim and a small bow at Madam Malkin’s. Judging from the look on Astoria’s face, he had made the right decision.

“They’re beautiful,” she replied earnestly and before he realised what was happening, she got up on tiptoes and pressed a long, soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. And let me know when you’ve spoken to Blaise?”

“I will,” Draco promised.

As soon as Astoria had left, Draco could feel the darkness return to Malfoy Manor. The hall felt incredibly empty and silent. Astoria had filled the house with light, maybe even with a little joy, but she had taken it with her when she left. However, the hall didn’t remain quiet for long because mere moments later, Draco could hear his father laugh.

“How touching,” Lucius Malfoy remarked while his footsteps became audible on the stairs.

“That was a private conversation,” Draco growled in return. Had he known that his father was listening, Draco would have said goodbye to Astoria outside. “Whatever, I’m leaving. Just going to say goodbye to Mother.”

Draco had already begun to walk towards the corridor when his father’s voice resounded in the empty hall once more. “I hope you’re not actually considering something more serious with this Greengrass girl?”

“Save your breath, Father,” Draco replied before leaving the room. “I stopped caring about your opinion a long time ago.”

He found his mother right where he had seen her talk to Astoria just last night. Narcissa Malfoy was sitting in her favourite chair, a book in her lap, but her gaze was set on the blazing fire in the chimney. When Draco entered the room, she greeted him with a smile. “Did you show her the peafowl? I bet she liked them.”

Draco nodded. “She did. And she just left, so I’m going to go back home, too.”

His mother smiled at him in return, but there was a sadness in her eyes that made Draco feel a little guilty. Moving out of Malfoy Manor had been the best decision he could have made for himself, but even though it had also improved the relationship with his mother, Draco thought that maybe, she felt lonelier than ever. He certainly couldn’t blame her with just Lucius Malfoy around.

“If he ever drives you mad, you’re welcome at my place anytime,” Draco said. “Doesn’t matter if it’s for tea or a while longer.”

Narcissa’s smile remained unchanged. “Thank you,” she said. Then, at last, her smile faltered. It was as if the mask had dropped off her face once more, only this time, there wasn’t sadness. It was something else entirely. “There is something you should know about your father.”

Draco scoffed. “If this is going to be one of those speeches about him not being such a bad guy-”

“It’s not,” his mother interrupted him. “I wasn’t sure whether I should tell you. I didn’t want to burden you with it, but you’re a grown man now and you deserve to know.”

Draco stood next to her chair, not moving, waiting for his mother to finish whatever she had begun to say. He had no idea what to expect at all.

“Your father hiding in his library all day, never going out, that’s not true. He thinks I don’t know, but he’s been going out in secret for a while now. Sometimes during the day, sometimes late at night. I don’t know where he goes but-”

When Narcissa broke off, Draco thought he knew what she was going to say next.

“You think he’s up to something?”

His mother shrugged. “If he was, he certainly wouldn’t tell me.”

Draco considered the news for a moment. His father had always been attracted to the Dark Arts and Draco doubted that it was a fascination easily stopped. For the last few years, he had believed that his father had suffered enough under Voldemort’s rule to finally have given up on the temptation the Dark Arts had to offer and was merely mourning his old status in society. But what if that wasn’t the case? What if he had found likeminded people to share his enthusiasm for the Dark Arts with? What if he was part of the very group Draco, Astoria and Blaise were trying to uncover? Draco didn’t give a damn about what happened to his father, not anymore, but he knew that if Lucius Malfoy was ever connected to dark magic again, his mother would suffer the consequences, too.

“Can you do me a favour?” Draco asked carefully.

His mother looked up expectantly. “Of course. What do you need?”

“New Year’s Eve, at 9 in the evening. See if Father is home at that time. If he is, there is probably nothing to worry about.”

Draco had expected her to ask questions, but luckily for him, Narcissa merely nodded. Lucius’s presence or absence that night wouldn’t prove anything, but if his father happened to sneak out the same night the next secret meeting took place, it would be a rather big coincidence. Whatever he found out, Draco decided that he would worry about it when the time came.


	31. Chapter 31

The potion looked just as gruesome as it smelled and even though he had prepared and smelled the brew before, Draco still wrinkled his nose at it. No wonder Crabbe and Goyle had always complained about having to drink it. The thought of it alone made Draco’s stomach turn over. Or maybe it wasn’t just the thought of the potion but also the prospect of what they were about to do.

“I wonder what security measures they will have at the party,” Blaise suddenly said, tearing Draco out of his thoughts.

He turned around to see his friend inspecting one of the bookshelves. Draco gawked at him for a while.

“I never thought about that,” he admitted, feeling another twinge of guilt for dragging Astoria into this. She hadn’t arrived at his place yet, but he had a feeling that if he and Blaise left without her, she would never forgive them for it.

Blaise had already arrived dressed in his fanciest robes and Draco had started putting on his suit, but he still wore his tie loosely around his neck, stirring the Polyjuice Potion absent-mindedly. Everything was ready. He and Astoria had collected their Muggle hairs a few days ago, Blaise had brought his own. As soon as she arrived, they were ready to go. Yet with every passing minute, Draco’s heart felt a little heavier. The thought of bringing Astoria _there_ just wouldn’t let him rest.

“I have no idea why I agreed to this,” he said more to himself than anyone else, but apparently, Blaise felt the need to respond.

His friend chuckled. “I’ve been asking myself the same question. Back at school, well, you weren’t exactly-”

Blaise shrugged, but the amused expression still remained visible on his face. Draco rolled his eyes at him.

“You can say it, I was a coward. Still am,” he growled. “I could think of a hundred things I’d rather do than this.”

He gestured towards his attire and then towards the bubbling, mud-like Polyjuice Potion.

“Then why are you doing this?” Blaise asked and this time, his curiosity sounded quite genuine.

Draco sighed audibly and let his shoulders sink. Whenever he thought about it, his thoughts all merged on Astoria. He had had a change of heart long before meeting her, dreaming of changing his ways even during the war, but all his attempts had been misguided. Astoria had shown him the way out. Astoria had convinced him he actually could be a better man. He was doing it for himself because it was the right thing and he was doing it for her, to prove that he was worthy of her. She deserved better than a coward who couldn’t escape the darkness of his past.

“Astoria,” Draco replied truthfully. That was all he said, knowing that any attempts to explain it to Blaise would only ever be understood by himself.

Still, his friend nodded. “You must really love her.”

Draco had denied it in front of his mother, he had denied it in front of his father and Astoria’s parents, too. He had denied it to himself so many times that Draco had grown weary of it.

“I do,” he admitted at last. Saying it out loud felt a little like a weight had been taken off his shoulders. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

Before Draco knew what was happening, Blaise had approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll keep her safe,” he promised. His voice sounded surprisingly upbeat, seeing as they were about to step into the lion’s den. “It’s just a party. We’ll mingle, have fun and keep an eye open for hints.”

Nodding gravely, Draco was trying to summon his courage, but even though Blaise sounded optimistic, it didn’t quite work. Then a sudden _plop_ tore him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see Astoria standing in the room, smiling at him.

Draco’s heart skipped a beat. To him, Astoria had always looked beautiful. He had noticed it even at the hospital when she had put on her healer’s robes and tied her hair back in a professional manner. Tonight, however, she looked radiant. Her long, black gown sparkled in the light from the fireplace. She hadn’t done anything with her hair, knowing they would soon shapeshift into other people anyway, so the loose curls framed her sweet face. For a moment, Draco regretted not being able to look at _Astoria_ for the rest of the night. Then, he suddenly felt Blaise’s elbow in his ribs.

“You, uh, you look beautiful,” he stammered nervously.

Hidden behind the palm of his other hand, Blaise gave him a thumbs-up sign.

Astoria smiled and nodded towards Draco. “Not looking too shabby yourself. Although your tie needs improving.”

Without hesitating another moment, Astoria walked up to him and reached for the two loose strands of fabric which she tied into an elaborate knot in a matter of minutes. Looking at her handiwork, Draco had to admit that she had done a better job than he could have done even though he had had enough practice.

“Are we ready to go?” Astoria asked, tearing him out of his thoughts.

When he looked at her, she was leaning over the cauldron, pulling a face at the nasty brew inside. Draco thought about arguing with her, he thought about trying to convince her to stay behind and wait, but he knew that any attempts would be fruitless. So he merely nodded.

They poured the potion into three separate flasks that were small enough to hide inside a pocket or Astoria’s glittery purse. Each of them was holding a small strand of hair that they had taken from an unsuspecting Muggle. Draco and Astoria had chosen wisely, using someone of the same shape and height so they wouldn’t feel awkward navigating a body that was so much unlike their own when they had more pressing matters to worry about. Whatever shape Blaise had chosen, they would see in just a few minutes.

“Everyone ready?” his friend asked.

Draco and Astoria nodded in confirmation before they dropped their hairs into the potion. Now that it was stored safely inside a flask, the muddy texture of the brew wasn’t visible. Unfortunately for him and his stomach, Draco remembered.

“Well,” he said, “bottoms up, I suppose?”

Knowing he would lose his courage if he waited any longer, Draco took a large sip from the nasty potion. Astoria and Blaise followed his example, all of them grimacing once the liquid touched their lips. The effects kicked in almost immediately. There was nausea, a stab of pain and the sensation of his skin catching fire, but all of that was over before Draco had actually registered it. When he looked up, he stared into the faces of two strangers.

Astoria still looked beautiful, but it was no longer Astoria. Her usually beautiful and warm skin had taken on a pale, freckled look and her dark eyes had turned a piercing blue. Her hair was still black, but instead of her usual curls, Draco now watched it flow halfway down her back. It was strange to see her like that.

“How do I look?” she demanded to know, grinning at him.

Draco shrugged. “Different,” he said simply. “I liked it better before.”

“Leave now, flirt later,” Blaise remarked drily. “Before the potion wears off.”

Draco glance up at Astoria, met her gaze and quickly looked away before he felt himself blushing. Just because he had finally realised his feelings for Astoria went beyond friendship, it didn’t mean that he was ready to let _her_ know. Too many unresolved issues around her feelings for him, his father’s reaction and the promise he had made to Mr Greengrass stood between Draco and admitting to Astoria how he felt. Besides, now was hardly the time.

In the middle of Draco’s kitchen, they all reach for each other’s hands and Disapparated.

* * *

Draco had told her about the fancy party he had once attended while trying to get his hands on the spell that had almost killed him, but Astoria hadn’t actually expected _that_. The mansion was huge, larger even than Malfoy Manor, and from afar it had looked old and abandoned. The spell had lifted once they crossed the barrier, revealing what could almost be described as a palace. However, at the top of the stairs, right in front of the entrance, a problem awaited them.

“Coin,” the guard growled, positioning his broad body between them and the door.

Blaise reached into his pocket and showed him the enchanted Galleon, but Astoria watched the man’s gaze wander from the coin to the three of them. For a moment, she was sure he would only let one of them pass.

“The invitation said plus one, not two,” he said.

Blaise merely shrugged. “A bit judgemental, don’t you think?”

To her surprise, the guard only considered his words for a while and then stepped aside to let them pass.

“Did you really just pass the three of us off as lovers?” Draco asked under his breath.

Astoria chuckled. “It worked, though.”

Blaise turned around and grinned at the two of them. It was strange to see him as a freckled red-head while his mannerisms remained exactly the same. “It’s not like I haven’t tried it before.”

During her school years, Astoria has always been amazed by the magic that surrounded Hogwarts, but her old school was nothing compared to the lavish interior that awaited them inside this mansion. The music didn’t seem to have a source but floated through the air and grew neither quieter nor louder as they moved to the corridors. In fact, it always seemed to be at a pleasant level between loud enough to dance to and quiet enough to have a decent conversation. Candles were floating over their heads, trays holding drinks and appetisers levitated past them and there was some form of magic in the air that Astoria had never witnessed before. It felt like it was drawing her in, guiding her feet towards the centre of the party and she wanted nothing more than to join in, mingle, dance and have the time of her life. Then all of a sudden, a hand reached for her arm and Draco pulled her back into reality.

Looking around, Astoria realised that she had wandered off on her own.

“Careful,” Draco warned her quietly. “It’s this place. They’ve enchanted it. Makes your head a little fuzzy.”

Astoria nodded. The touch of Draco’s hand had somehow lifted the spell somewhat and even though she could still feel something pull her towards the corridor, it was easier to resist while he was keeping her grounded. She reached for his hand and held on tight.

“We should split up,” Blaise suggested. “You follow the pull, see where it takes you. I’ll try to go in the opposite direction, go where I really don’t feel like going.”

“Shouldn’t we stick together?” Draco asked cautiously. Astoria couldn’t blame him for feeling a little terrified after what he had been through. If she searched her mind long enough, she would find her own fear buried deep inside it, ready to jump to the surface, but she wouldn’t let it.

Blaise shook his head. “You go and mingle, see if anyone or anything looks suspicious. I’ll come and find you if I see anything interesting.”

He didn’t give them a chance to protest, so there was nothing else left for Astoria and Draco to do but to follow the magic. Still holding hands, they made their way down the corridor and found that the doors opened for them whenever they came close. Soon, they found themselves at the heart of the party.

If Astoria hadn’t known better, she would have assumed it to be just a regular New Year’s Eve celebration. There were people laughing, dancing, eating and drinking, some were hidden away in a corner, sharing kisses or maybe even a little more, yet the longer Astoria watched them, the darker it felt. There were at least thirty or forty of them and they all shared a passion for the Dark Arts that should have been forbidden. All of them were a lot more dangerous than they looked.

And there was magic here, too. Astoria watched them chat, some of them absorbed in conversation, but she couldn’t hear a single word. It was as if the spell and the music prevented her from overhearing anything that wasn’t meant for her ears and at the same time, she still felt the sinister pull, the urge to dance that was beginning to frighten her a little. A spell was doing its best to draw her in, a spell so powerful it could influence an entire house.

“If you keep looking so stern, you’ll give us away,” Draco whispered next to her.

When she glanced at him, Astoria noticed that he didn’t exactly look at ease either. “We should mingle,” she reasoned. “Eat something or dance.”

In response, Draco gave her hand a gentle tuck and she let him pull her towards the dancing couples where they soon joined in. With one hand holding hers and the other one guiding her hips, they began to move to the music. As they danced, Astoria looked at Draco for the very first time. He had chosen a Muggle of the same height, but his face and hair were entirely different. Instead of his white-blonde hair, his head was now covered in brown curls. His eyes, too, were brown and Astoria found herself missing the grey that reminded her of a stormy sky. This dance would probably have been very nice… if she had danced with the Draco she knew and loved.

Her heart skipped a little beat once she had finished thinking her thought, realising that she had never actually allowed to think it before. Yet it was nothing but the truth. At some point during the last few months, she had fallen in love with the man who had once insulted her at her place of work. It seemed like a lifetime ago, like they had known each other forever in only a few months.

“Is everything alright?” Draco asked, obviously sensing the tension that had spread through her body.

She forced herself to smile. “Just wondering how on earth we’re going to find anything here.”

Draco glanced around, his eyes following the people or something else entirely, but as he twirled her around the dance floor, his feet suddenly came to a halt. Astoria followed his gaze to a small door between the bookshelves.

“Is it just me or do you really want to avoid that door?” he asked.

Astoria looked at it and she had to admit that she was struggling to even see it. It blended in so well with the rest of the room that no one would even look at it twice. It was so simple, so unremarkable that some part of her brain was trying very hard to ignore it altogether. The last thing she wanted to do was to enter it.

“I guess we’ve found what we’re looking for,” she replied.

Draco reached for her hand again and, to her surprise, continued their dance.

“Let’s wait for Blaise,” he reasoned, “and slip through when no one is looking.”

Astoria nodded in confirmation and tried to focus on Draco, but being so close to him didn’t actually make her feel any less nervous. It seemed like she had to choose between the confusion of her own feelings and the prickling sensation at the back of her neck that something on the other side of the door was watching her.


	32. Chapter 32

The original plan had been to wait for Blaise, but their friend was nowhere to be found. Despite Draco’s protests, Astoria urged him to use the moment when an ideal opportunity presented itself. Midnight was drawing closer and, just as expected, the party guests were starting to gather and approach the exits, probably to watch the fireworks outside. While everyone was trying to make their way outside, Astoria reached for his hand and pulled him towards the door.

“What about Blaise?” Draco asked in a hushed voice.

Following his gaze, Astoria looked around and seemed to come to the same conclusion. Blaise wasn’t coming and they had no time to lose. In the turmoil of people, the two of them slipped through the door.

A sudden shiver came over Draco as soon as they had stepped over the threshold and he found himself regretting that he hadn’t thought to bring a jacket. Next to him, Astoria was shivering as well. Draco was about to suggest that they should go back, return to the party and maybe find a jacket, but when he turned around, he realised that the door behind them had disappeared.

“Well, at least we can’t chicken out,” Astoria remarked, obviously noticing the same thing.

“Right,” Draco replied absent-mindedly. He let his eyes wander over the old stone walls that somehow reminded him of Hogwarts and he couldn’t quite explain how he knew it, but Draco was sure that they were no longer in the same building. It was a kind of magic he had never witnessed before, never even thought possible and another shiver ran through his body, though whether it was out of fear or because of the cold, he couldn’t say. They had no choice now but to follow the path ahead.

Draco reached for Astoria’s hand and gripped it tightly and somehow, the cool touch of her skin was a comfort to him. No matter what they encountered in this place, no matter what was going to happen, at least Draco knew that there was no one he would rather have by his side than Astoria. Slowly, they were beginning to make their way down the corridor, but with every step, Draco glanced around nervously as if expecting a trap to snap shut. Next to him, Astoria seemed to have read his thoughts.

“Is it just me or does it seem a little too easy to you?” she asked with a hint of nervousness in her voice.

He cleared his throat. “It’s not just you,” he replied, carefully stepping forward. Maybe, one of these old tiles opened up a trap door and they would fall down and rot in a dungeon forever. There was magic in the air and Draco would have bet his entire fortune that they would never be able to Apparate in here. The only option they had left was to follow the corridor down until it ended, wherever that was. And he had a feeling what might be awaiting them there.

“Ugh, why is it so cold?” she complained.

“Do you want a realistic or reassuring answer?”

When Astoria took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, her breath came out as a white cloud that drifted and dissolved in the air. “Dementors,” she reasoned.

Draco nodded gravely and they moved on, now more careful than ever. He hadn’t immediately recognised the signs even though he had spent a lot of time in their presence, their gloomy shadows hanging over Malfoy Manor as part of Lord Voldemort’s entourage, always casting an air of hopelessness and cold. Draco had never been sure whether it was the Dementors or the prospect of war, but walking down the corridor in Astoria’s presence, he knew the Dementors were to blame for a very large part of the worst time of his life.

They turned around a corner and Astoria drew her wand out of her pocket. After a gentle flick, a blueish light burst from the tip and shot ahead of them, taking on the blurry shape of a large panther that hurtled down the corridor. Instantly, the air felt a lot warmer and the feeling of hopelessness lifted a little.

“Impressive,” Draco remarked as he nodded towards the Patronus panther. “And a little frightening.”

When Astoria chuckled, there was a hint of pride that sound. “I like big cats,” she replied with a shrug. “What’s yours?”

Draco opened his mouth, but luckily for him, he was spared the embarrassment of his answer when they turned around the next corner and stopped right in front of a door. Even the panther had come to a halt next to them as if the door was a threshold it could not cross. He and Astoria exchanged a glance and when she nodded, Draco lifted his own wand and unlocked the door. As soon as he had cast the spell, the lock clicked and the old, wooden door squeaked open.

Yet neither of them dared to enter. It was too easy, too simple. Either they had gone down the wrong path and there wasn’t anything of interest behind that door at all, or another danger was waiting for them right there. The hole in the pit of his stomach and the presence of the Dementors, however, were the only answers Draco really needed. They had found the right place.

Gripping Astoria’s hand tightly, Draco gathered all of his courage and stepped inside.

While the corridors had reminded him of Hogwarts, the vault they stepped into looked like it could have been at Gringotts. Yet it was more than a simple vault meant for storage. With the old wooden bookshelves and expensive furniture, it looked almost like a sitting room - if it hadn’t been for the Dementors in the back. At first, Draco’s instincts had told him to run, but that was before he realised that the beasts were trapped behind a barrier that kept them from doing any harm. All they could do was to project their cold and despair onto the room.

“I have never seen a Patronus Charm work like that,” Astoria said almost in awe as she nodded towards the Dementors. “It caged them.”

When she stepped up to touch the magical barrier, Draco almost shouted at her to stop, but nothing happened. Even she couldn’t breach it. As soon as she had satisfied her curiosity, her eyes turned back to Draco. They were hers again and Astoria’s familiar face eased his mind a little. The potion had worn off at last.

Knowing that the Dementors couldn’t hurt him, Draco allowed himself to follow her gaze and examine the contents of this strange vault. A couple of books lay on the table, spread out among various obviously magical objects. It almost looked like an interrupted study session and whoever had been down here had left everything in place so that they could return at a later time and resume their reading.

Draco stepped a little closer and skimmed the contents of the page. Along with the device right next to it, there was little doubt in his mind about what the wizard was trying to achieve. “Someone was building a Time-Turner,” he said and at the same time, he began to wonder who would have the need for such a thing. Apart from the obvious personal reasons, Draco thought it would be a stupid and dangerous device to use. Time-Turners could alter not only a person’s life, but reality as a whole if the wrong events were to be changed. It might even be used to alter the outcome of the war. Another shiver ran down his spine when he pictured a world under Voldemort’s rule.

“We have to tell the Aurors about this place,” Draco said determinedly. “I don’t care about their motives. This is too much power for anyone.”

“I agree,” Astoria said gravely.

There was a strange undertone in her voice, almost like she was smiling and when he looked up, Draco saw Astoria grinning at him. Her hand was pointing towards a book on the shelf. At first, Draco didn’t understand.

“I found it,” she announced proudly. “Your father’s book.”

A weight dropped off Draco’s shoulders. Not only had they managed to infiltrate the secret society, they had also made their way into the heart of their secrets unscathed and they had found exactly what they were looking for. For once, everything had gone according to plan.

Yet as soon as Astoria reached out and took the book off the shelf, the small bubble of safety and victory crumbled around them like a house of cards. Draco didn’t know what to react to first as the spells broke loose, so he let his body drop to the floor as red, blue and green sparks began to fly across the room. For a moment, he thought he was back at the battle of Hogwarts, he smelled the smoke and the fire, he heard the ceiling collapse over him and he breathed in the dust that seemed to infest his lungs immediately. His heart was beating so fast it seemed like he couldn’t breathe at all. When he finally managed to inhale deeply, the cold air stung inside his lungs and with a look towards the Dementors, Draco knew that they were doomed. The barrier that had kept them from attacking had vanished and it was only a matter of time before they realised they were free to attack. Their only hope was Astoria’s Patronus panther.

Astoria.

Draco lifted his head further and felt a twinge of panic when he realised the panther was gone, not because of the Dementors, but because he knew what it meant. A couple of inches from where he had last seen the Patronus lay Astoria’s unmoving figure. His heartbeat came to a sudden halt.

When the attack of spells finally stopped, Draco didn’t waste a second and darted forward to where Astoria lay. Carefully, he cradled her head in his hands and breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes flung open. She wasn’t dead. That was all that mattered to him now - until he remembered the Dementors.

“Are you okay?!” he asked immediately. “That was one hell of a security system.”

Uttering a long groan, Astoria nodded and yet, her dark skin looked unnaturally pale. She had obviously been hit by one of the spells.

“I’ll be fine,” she tried to reassure him, but winced in pain as soon as she tried to sit up. Her hand wandered towards her stomach and Draco almost jumped up at the sight of blood. Her palm had taken on a crimson colour where she had touched her wound and Draco knew that her dark dress was probably hiding and soaking up most of it. He needed to get her to St. Mungo’s immediately.

Draco didn’t want to hurt her, but he knew that they needed to stop the bleeding, so he carefully placed his hand over her wound and pressed down. “We have to get out of here,” he told her. “We need to get to the hospital.”

Astoria turned her head towards the Dementors and Draco followed her gaze, only now realising that the shield wasn’t the only thing that had been deactivated during their heist. Behind the Dementors lay the path to freedom, an open door behind which Draco could see the distant fireworks that heralded the new year. The only problem was that three Dementors stood between them and the exit and he doubted that Astoria could make a run for it in her state.

“You have to cast the Patronus charm again,” Draco said urgently. “We’ll be able to get out. I’m sure we can Apparate once we’re out of the vault.”

Slowly, Astoria shook her head and he heard her gasp for breath a second later. “I can’t,” she croaked.

“Yes, you can,” Draco replied desperately. For just a second, his hand left her wound and he pushed her fallen wand into her fingers. “Just conjure your panther and I’ll get us out.”

While he was back to applying pressure to her wound, Astoria lifted her wand, but Draco had witnessed the failure of magic first-hand and he knew that her shaking arm wouldn’t be able to do it. His heart sank into his boots when she spoke the words and her wand didn’t even emit as much as a spark. They were doomed. He had brought Astoria here. Her injury was his fault.

“You do it,” she told him.

Draco shook his head. “I can’t,” he replied, the despair audible in his voice. She had asked him earlier and he had been too much of a coward to admit it. “I’m sorry.”

Some of her strength seemed to return to her because she sat up straight and looked at him imploringly. “Yes, you can,” Astoria repeated sternly. “Just think of a happy memory and say the words. It’s not that hard. You can do it!”

“No, I can’t!” Draco barked at her in reply. His heart was pounding in his chest again and he could feel the breathlessness of another panic attack coming. His emotions, his anger, his agitation were already far ahead of him. “I never could! It’s the only spell I never managed, Astoria. I don’t have a happy memory powerful enough to do it!”

Right now, Draco was ready to curse his family once more, curse Voldemort, curse every single person he had ever met apart from Astoria. No one had ever made him feel happy. If they had, he would be able to save her now.

Yet when he looked at Astoria, he didn’t find the same anger in her eyes. There was a strange expression in her eyes as she lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, right over his heart. Her touch left the strangest tingle on his skin even now, even while they were still in danger.

“I believe in you, Draco,” she told him with a hint of a smile. “And please don’t take this the wrong way, but-”

Her words broke off abruptly and Draco was about to ask what was going on when Astoria suddenly leaned forward and he felt her lips against his own before he even knew what was happening. It was as if she had flicked a switch inside his mind. His heart was still beating too fast, but this time, it was turning a somersault of happiness inside his chest. There was nothing but Astoria right now. No danger. No Dementors. He had dreamed about kissing her, thought about kissing her, but the reality of it was a lot better than his dreams could have ever been. He wanted to savour the soft touch of her lips, taste the hint of strawberry on her lipstick, he wanted this moment to never end. When Astoria finally pulled away, Draco was going to protest until he noticed the weak smile on her face.

“Expecto Patronum,” she whispered. “Do it!”

Draco didn’t look around. He knew that if he did, he was going to find the Dementors closing in on them. He could already feel their cold breath on his neck, so he closed his eyes and thought about the little hint of strawberry he had tasted on her lips.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A silver orb shot from his wand and aimed right at the Dementors. He wasn’t strong enough to produce a corporeal Patronus, but it was enough to keep the beasts at bay. While the Dementors withdrew against the nearest wall, Draco decided not to waste the opportunity. He wrapped his arm around Astoria’s waist and pulled her up. Even though she winced and flinched until his touch, she was able to stand. Draco grabbed the book they had risked everything for and together, they made their way out into the cold January night.


	33. Chapter 33

Between the emotional turmoil that Draco felt and Astoria’s weight, the landing was more than a little rough. After Apparating into St. Mungo’s, they collapsed on the floor, but Draco didn’t have time to look around and see where exactly they had fallen. Instead, his attention went straight to Astoria, who was lying in his arms, unconscious.

“Astoria,” he said, shaking her gently. Yet when her eyes remained closed, the panic started to rise up again. He tried calling her name again, louder this time. “Astoria!”

Only then did Draco actually look down and realised that his formerly white shirt was drenched in blood. Astoria’s blood. He wasn’t sure whether his heart was beating too fast for him to notice or whether it had stopped entirely. It couldn’t be. Astoria had been fine and talking to him just minutes ago. He couldn’t lose her now, not when he had so much to make up for, so much to tell her. Not now, not after the kiss she had given him that still burned on his lips.

“Help!” Draco cried out desperately. “Somebody help!”

What happened next passed by in a blur. Draco’s eyes never left Astoria, he kept clutching her small body and while one hand remained tightly on her wound, he could feel her shallow breaths under his palm. Inside his mind, Draco prayed - probably for the first time in his life - that she was going to be okay. There were so many things he had yet to say to her, an apology for dragging her into this mess, an expression of gratitude because she had saved his life in more than one way and he hadn’t even realised it until now, a confession of love. Draco had tried to bury his feelings, tried to keep his promise to her father, but none of that mattered anymore. Draco had to tell Astoria that he loved her, that he had loved her since that night by the fire where she had ignited a spark that could never be put out again. Right now, all he wanted was for her to be okay, so he never even realised when the healers arrived and tried to separate him from Astoria.

Eventually, they must have managed because Draco found himself standing after someone had helped him up and as he watched Astoria’s body being levitated away, there was a voice talking in his ear. When he tried to go after her, that voice, along with a strong arm, stopped him.

“You’ll have to wait outside,” someone told him.

It was hard, so hard to tear his eyes away from Astoria, but when Draco eventually managed, he stared right into the kind face of an elderly healer. The man smiled at him.

“You can wait over there,” he told Draco, nodding towards a row of seats.

“Is she going to be okay?” Draco demanded to know, realising now how weak and terrified his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and tried once more. “Please, I have to know that she will be okay.”

The old healer nodded. “I’m certain of it,” he replied gently. “Ms Greengrass is a colleague. Trust me when I say that the most qualified healers will do their best to treat her. But it might help to know what happened.”

It was as if a weight dropped off Draco’s shoulders. Even though it wasn’t definite, the man’s words gave him hope. Then, he realised that the healer had asked Draco a question, one he couldn’t possibly answer truthfully. “Uh, we were at a New Year’s party. It was a spell gone wrong,” he replied, settling for a half-truth.

The healer nodded. Whether he believed him or not, Draco couldn’t tell and right now, he didn’t particularly care either. If he was approached and questioned by the Aurors, Draco would tell them everything without hesitation. Even if it got himself into trouble. The moment they had hurt Astoria, they had declared war.

The elderly healer left Draco on the corridor and joined the rest behind the door where Astoria had vanished and now, there was nothing else for him to do but wait. Yet he couldn’t possibly sit down and pass the time by waiting patiently, so Draco began to pace the corridors. Once he had exhausted the space right in front of Astoria’s room, he turned around a corner, not daring to walk too far in case he missed anything important, but his stride was interrupted anyway when he suddenly found himself face to face with someone terribly familiar.

He looked just as nervous as Draco felt, maybe even more so, and it seemed as if he had been pacing the corridors just as Draco had. They both came to a halt in front of each other and he had half a mind to turn around and hide, but something held Draco back.

“Malfoy,” he said. There was a distinct lack of hostility in his voice, but Draco could hear the surprise.

“Potter,” he replied in kind.

Harry Potter was the last person Draco had expected to meet here and if it hadn’t been for the mildly terrified look on his old enemy’s face, he might have turned around and fled. Yet Astoria’s voice came back to his mind, reminding him once more that there was no need to let this turn into a fight. Even though Draco and Harry would never be friends, there was no reason whatsoever to carry their old rivalry outside of Hogwarts. While Draco was still looking for the right words to say, for anything that might let Harry Potter know he hadn’t come here to pick a fight, Harry took the first step.

“You’ve looked better,” he said, nodding towards Draco’s blood-stained shirt. Draco knew what it must have seemed like to his old nemesis, but he didn’t appear to judge him on it. “Are you okay?”

“I, uh-” Draco broke off. He wasn’t okay, not in the slightest. Not until he knew for certain that Astoria was going to be fine. “A friend got hurt at a New Year’s party.”

Harry Potter nodded.

“What brings you here?” he demanded to know, realising that he sounded a little more forceful than he had intended.

Yet Harry’s nervous exterior broke instantly and a wide grind spread across his face. “Ginny is having our baby,” he announced, barely able to contain his excitement.

Something in Draco’s chest ached all of a sudden. Of course, this moment of joy was the reason why Harry hadn’t attacked Draco on sight, but that wasn’t what bugged him about it. It was the realisation that while he had been hiding in his parents’ house, consumed by the memories of his past, everyone else had moved on. For him, the world and time had stopped. For everyone else, life had gone on after the war. Draco had only recently begun to catch up.

“Uh, congratulations,” Draco uttered.

Still grinning, Harry dropped down on a nearby chair and, not knowing what else to do, Draco followed his example, leaving one seat empty between the two of them. He didn’t know what to do or say, so they just remained silent for a long while.

Then, Draco remembered something as if it pulled on his robe like a weight in the inside pocket. He considered it for a while.

“You’re an Auror now, aren’t you?” Draco wanted to know, his voice careful.

Harry’s head turned in his direction. He was no longer grinning, but he nodded in confirmation.

Draco opened his mouth, but suddenly found that he couldn’t speak. He remembered feeling this way before and whatever spell the secret society had cast on him the first time he had stepped into their lair, they had cast it again tonight. He couldn’t betray their secrets unless he confessed them to someone he trusted completely.

“What is it?” Harry wanted to know, obviously sensing the conflict in him.

Harry Potter had been Draco’s favourite enemy at school, but he had also saved his life multiple times. He was the reason that Voldemort was gone. He had ended the war. The idiot in front of him would do the right thing without question, so Draco made the decision to trust him. His personal feelings for Potter aside, Draco knew that he was a person he could trust with his life. Yet he had one last reservation.

“If I tell you something, I’m going to need a promise,” Draco said.

Harry’s previously joyful face turned into a frown. “What kind of promise?”

“That, no matter what happens, my mother and my friend will not suffer any consequences. Neither of them has done anything wrong. I don’t care about myself and I don’t care if you throw my father in a cell forever, but nothing can happen to Astoria or my mother,” he explained urgently.

Harry let the words sink in, a look of worry and curiosity on his face, but he eventually nodded in agreement.

Then, Draco told him everything, not leaving out a single detail even if it meant showing himself in a vulnerable, bad light. He needed Harry to understand what had happened and why it had happened and judging from the way his old enemy listened to him, he did. Once the story was done, Draco pulled the book out from under his robes and handed it to Harry. He only took it reluctantly.

“I don’t care if the Aurors have to start investigating me for possessing it, this book needs to disappear forever. The magic it contains is too much power for anyone. It can’t fall into the wrong hands ever again,” Draco insisted.

Harry’s hands took the old book and held it gingerly while he regarded the cover. Clearly, his mind was occupied with more pressing, personal matters, but Draco would never get another shot at this. Harry Potter might be the only person in the entire world who was able to help him now and Draco should have hated the fact, but this was about Astoria, so he didn’t care.

“Promise me you will do everything in your power to end them,” Draco demanded. “These people hurt Astoria. They’re tampering with Time Magic. They can’t be allowed to continue. Promise me that!”

Slowly, Harry looked up and right into Draco’s eyes. For once, there was neither malice nor hatred in their shared glance. “I promise,” he said earnestly. “But you should have come to us earlier. It was very dangerous to go after them yourself.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Draco spat at him in response. He was never going to stop feeling guilty for what happened to Astoria and he was going to spend the rest of his life making up for it.

Harry paused and regarded his former foe for a long moment. “She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”

“She means _everything_ to me,” Draco corrected him.

To his surprise, Harry Potter started to laugh and it made Draco frown at him. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to picture Draco Malfoy caring about anyone but himself. I just can’t see it,” he said, chuckling.

Seeing that their friendly conversation had come to an abrupt end, Draco rose to his feet. He was looking for an insult to throw at him, but nothing came to his mind right now even though he desperately wanted to hurt him back.

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologised quickly. “But old habits die hard.”

Draco glared at him, wondering if maybe he had made a mistake in confiding in him. “Remember your promise,” he warned.

Harry, now serious again, nodded. “I won’t forget.”

Just as Draco was about to leave and head back, the elderly healer walked around the corner.

“Ah, there you are,” the man said in a cheerful manner. “I was just looking for you.”

“How is Astoria?!” Draco demanded before saying anything else.

The old man smiled. “She’s weak, but she’s going to be fine,” he announced. “You can see her now.”

Draco’s heart felt about a hundred pounds lighter and he was ready to dart off in the direction of her room when the healer held him back once more. “We’ve stopped the bleeding, but she is healing slower than she is supposed to. We believe it’s because of the spell that caused it, but we’re still going to run some tests to make sure that there is nothing else to it. She’s going to have to stay here for a day or two.”

Draco nodded even though he had hardly heard the man. All that mattered now was that Astoria was going to be just fine.


	34. Chapter 34

His awkward conversation with Harry Potter was forgotten the moment Draco stepped through the door and into Astoria’s room. As she lay on her bed, still pale and eyes closed, Draco once more felt a hint of panic, but as he stepped closer, she opened her eyes and a soft smile appeared on her lips.

“You look like you’ve murdered someone,” Astoria joked feebly. Her eyes wandered down his shirt and even though Draco had almost forgotten about it, he remembered it now. The blood had dried by now, leaving crimson stains all over his chest. Yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to laugh.

“Not funny,” Draco replied as he pulled up a chair to sit next to Astoria. He observed her for a long moment, watching her smile at him, and he remembered all the things he had wanted to say to her. He remembered the moment their lips had collided in a kiss and the memory of it still tingled softly on his skin. Yet when he spoke, the words that came out were not the ones he had intended to say. “You could have died.”

Astoria’s lips parted and he heard her draw a deep breath before lowering her gaze. “I know. We should have been more careful, but we got the book in the end.”

“We shouldn’t have gone at all, we should have left it to the Aurors, consequences be damned. Your-” he broke off, but Draco forced himself to finish the sentence. His eyes fell on Astoria’s hand that was lying on top of the hospital blanket and he reached out and took it gently in his own. “Your life is worth more than that stupid book. And I don’t even know what happened to Blaise.”

“Blaise will be fine,” Astoria tried to reassure him even though there was a tiny hint of insecurity in her voice. Neither of them knew what had happened to Blaise, whether he had merely gotten lost or been caught.

Still, Draco nodded. “I’ll send him an owl later,” he said.

Looking down at their entwined hands, he once again thought about telling Astoria everything that was on his mind, but something told him that now was not the right moment. Then, he felt her squeeze his hand.

“You got your book back, though,” she said and when he looked at her, Draco found her smiling weakly. The exhaustion was visible on her face and Draco realised that she probably had to try very hard to even stay awake. “You and your family are off the hook. You’re going to be okay.

“I gave the book to an Auror,” Draco admitted. He caressed her hand with his fingertips as if it was the most precious thing he had ever held while avoiding her gaze. They had meant to tell the Aurors about the secret society, but admitting the extent to which Draco was involved had never been the plan and he could tell from the change in her breathing that she was more than surprised. “Along with the entire story.”

Finally, Draco looked up to meet her gaze and Astoria sat up in her bed, gawking at him. “But you-”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Draco replied roughly. “They hurt you and they’re going to pay for that. I will face whatever consequences this damned story has. You’ll be left out of it. I made him promise.”

Astoria nodded, but her eyes flickered sleepily as if she was fighting hard to stay awake, but trying her best to keep the conversation going. Draco was hit by another bout of guilt. She was probably still in pain and needed sleep to heal, so he decided that whatever else they had to say, it could wait until morning.

“Get some rest,” he told her quietly and made an attempt to remove his hand, but Astoria held on to it.

“Can you stay?” she wanted to know.

For a moment, there was a flicker of alertness in her eyes, a flicker of something deep and gentle like he had glimpsed right before the kiss. It wrapped around his heart like a tight hug and he smiled at her. “Yes,” he confirmed. “I’ll stay.”

Content with his answer, Astoria closed her eyes at last and it didn’t take long for her to drift off into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Sleep was deep and dreamless. It felt like falling into a black, welcoming hole where the darkness engulfed her like a blanket. As she drifted off, Astoria could have sworn it would last forever. It didn’t. She wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed, but when her eyes opened eventually, the first rays of cold winter sunshine shone into her room. Yet she wasn’t in her room. A brief moment of confusion and a flashback of memories later, Astoria recalled everything that had happened last night. The party. The secret room. The curse. The kiss.  
At last, her eyes wandered around the hospital room and latched on to the head of white-blonde hair resting on her bed. Even when he had fallen asleep, Draco’s hand hadn’t let go of hers and she felt a sudden warmth in her chest. She had asked him to stay and he had. Even though they had only known each other for months, Astoria found herself wishing he would stay forever. She wasn’t entirely sure where she had found the courage to kiss him last night, but if she had had any doubts about his feelings for her, the successful Patronus charm chased them away just like a Dementor. Her kiss had made him happier than anything else and just thinking about it made her heart skip a little beat.

Yet as last night’s memories began to resurface, so did one of a conversation right here over her hospital bed.

“What did you mean when you said you gave the book away?” Astoria blurted out, not even bothering to wake him up properly first. She just had to know if he had really said those things.

Draco shifted slowly in his sleep, his hand gripping hers a little more tightly before he raised his head and looked at her. His hair stood up in all direction, there was a soft smile on his lips that was mirrored in his dreamy eyes and if it hadn’t been for his blood-stained shirt, Draco would have looked very cute indeed.

“Good morning,” he uttered sleepily.

But Astoria didn’t have time for cuteness right now. She needed to know whether the things he had said to her while she had been half asleep were true. “Did you really give that book to an Auror?” she demanded to know.

With a sigh, Draco sat up straight and, for the first time in hours, he let go of her hand. He also took an awfully long time to rub his eyes before he answered her question while Astoria’s patience began to run thin.

“Yes,” he admitted eventually. “Last night, I ran into Harry Potter. I told him everything. I gave him the book after he promised me to leave you out of it.”

“But you could have stayed out of it,” Astoria argued instantly. “You could have let Blaise handle it. At least he has a clean slate and wouldn’t have gotten into trouble. You could have-”

“Yes, but I don’t want to stay out of it anymore,” Draco argued. “During the war, my family and I did some bad things. Whether we were forced to or not, it doesn’t matter now. We walked free while others got punished for it. My father didn’t learn his lesson and kept his books and I messed up when I handed one over to them. It’s time I owned up to my mistakes, did the right thing.”

A smile came over Astoria’s lips. She still remembered Draco from a couple of months ago, Draco from their time at school, and right now, she thought she was looking at an entirely different person. Once again, she felt proud of who he had become.

“Where is that change of heart coming from?” she asked even though she already knew. He had said it last night. Draco had said that she was more important than anything else and the idea of meaning so much to him made her heart glow with joy.

Yet Draco looked at her with a puzzled glance. “You,” he said simply. “You taught me that. Astoria, I-”

Whatever Draco had meant to stay, Astoria would never know. While she clung to his lips, waiting for the words she was so desperate to hear, the door to her hospital room was flung open and her family - her entire family - stepped inside.

“Astoria!” her father blurted out immediately. “Are you alright?!”

He only waited for her to nod before he turned his attention and his anger towards Draco. Before anyone else could react, her father had grabbed Draco by the lapel and dragged him up into a standing position. Even then, he towered over Draco as he raised his fist in warning, a rare occurrence for wizards who usually preferred to fight with their wands. No, this kind of physical violence was reserved for moments of true anger.

“Dad! Stop!” Astoria yelled at him, but to no avail.

“You promised me you wouldn’t get my daughter into trouble! You promised not to get her involved in your mess!”

“I’m sorry,” Draco muttered and closed his eyes, waiting for the punch to land, but Astoria wasn’t going to let it happen.

Even while her wound stung, she climbed out of bed, fighting the pain and dizziness she felt, to put herself between her father and Draco. Somehow, she had the feeling it wouldn’t be the last time she was doing that.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Astoria argued instantly, shoving her father away from Draco.

“Then what happened?! If it wasn’t his fault, then who landed you here?!”

Carefully, Astoria glanced at Draco and then back at her father, staring at him resolutely. If Draco had protected her in front of an Auror last night, if he had brought her to the hospital and stayed by her side all night, she could protect him from her father now.

“We went to a New Year’s party,” Astoria explained quietly. “A spell went wrong at midnight. I was hit. It was an accident.”

Her father looked like he wanted to shout some more, like he was desperate to punch someone in his anger, but when his shoulder sank, Astoria knew that some of his anger was beginning to evaporate.

“It wasn’t Draco’s fault. It could have hit him as easily as me. It was an accident,” she said calmly and that part wasn’t even a lie. It could have been Draco in that hospital bed instead of her and somehow, she was glad it had hit her instead.

At last, her father seemed to give up. With a hanging head, he nodded, obviously disappointed he had no one to blame for her injury and he still glowered at Draco as he turned towards the door. “Well, I’ll see if I can talk to a healer about getting you discharged.”

Her mother granted her a smile and gently placed her hand on Astoria’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said before she followed her husband outside.

Now only Daphne remained. Standing in the doorway, she looked at Astoria’s face, but then, as her eyes trailed down to where Astoria’s wound was, the expression on her face turned impassive. From one moment to the next, the hair on Astoria’s neck stood up and a cold shiver began to run down her spine. She didn’t know why, but when their eyes met once again, Astoria could feel that Daphne knew the truth. And there was only one reason for that. Her sister had been there, too.


	35. Chapter 35

The tea in front of his nose was no longer steaming and Draco knew without tasting it that it had already grown cold. Meanwhile, his mother set down her cup and looked at him, probably judging him quite harshly after what he had told her. And he had told her the truth. The whole truth.

Now Draco was staring back at her, waiting for her to say something in response to his confession. Yet whatever was on Narcissa’s mind, she didn’t seem ready to share it with him yet and instead let the news of the secret society, the stolen book and conversation with Harry Potter sink in slowly.

“You did the right thing,” she said eventually, resolutely.

Draco’s mouth fell open. He had assumed she would get angry, blame him for trying to tear their family apart, that she would try to protect his father, but she did none of these things.

“And thank you,” she added. Draco noticed that she was trying to smile, but his mother didn’t quite manage. “For trying to protect me. I have no doubt that Harry Potter will keep his word.”

For a moment, Draco thought she was travelling back in time, back to the last hours of the war. Narcissa had once saved Harry’s life, lied to Voldemort himself and thus, aided to his downfall. Knowing Saint Potter, he probably hadn’t forgotten that.

“I thought you’d be angry,” he said eventually. “Because of Father.”

“Your father has chosen to live in the past,” his mother said and now, there was anger in her voice indeed. “It’s a shame, but if that is his choice, then so be it. You’re trying your hardest to build a better life for yourself, a _good_ life and the mistakes of your father’s past should not weigh you down. Or me. That is his problem and he has to face the consequences.”

She reached for her cup and attempted to take a sip, but then realised that it was empty. His mother set the porcelain back down with a clanging sound.

“You were right about him,” Narcissa added. “He wasn’t here on New Year’s Eve. I don’t know where he was, but from what you’re describing, I think it’s likely he joined that… that group. And if that is the case, I am done covering for him.”

Draco nodded slowly and felt a hint of relief mixed with his guilt. Narcissa might be fine with it, but the longer Draco thought about it, the more he wished that there had been another way. He didn’t _want_ his father to be arrested and thrown into Azkaban, but once again, he felt like there had been no other choice.

“Don’t you feel bad about what your father has done,” Narcissa reminded him sternly. “Focus on the bright side. Focus on Astoria, for instance.”

When she said the words, there was a little twinkling in her eyes that once again told him that she knew. Narcissa had known for longer than even Draco had. It seemed like everyone had known of his feelings for her before he had realised it. When his mother leaned forward and looked at him intently, Draco suddenly felt himself blush as he remembered the kiss. His mother couldn’t know about _that_ , could she?

“Tell her,” Narcissa prompted him. “I’d like to see my son get married in this lifetime.”

Draco snorted. It seemed ridiculous to even think about marrying Astoria when they hadn’t even known each other for that long, when they had only ever shared a single kiss, when he didn’t even know how she felt about it, when the entire world seemed to be against them, including both their fathers. Yet, at the same time, Draco felt it in his heart, in his bones, in every single cell of his body - he knew that he was never going to feel this way about another woman ever again. The bond that had developed between them, the closeness, the unspoken affection between them was not something that he could hope to find with another person. Draco had found his other half, a person who wanted to be with him for who he was, a person who could change him for the better and bring out the best in him. He would be stupid to let that go.

“I will,” he confirmed eventually. “I will tell her.”

* * *

Even though Astoria still felt a little weak, she was certainly well enough to be back on her feet and after two days of constant, worrying glances and hovering parents, she needed to get out. Something was weighing heavily on her mind and there was only one person she could talk to about it. So Astoria found herself Apparating into Draco’s flat two days after being discharged from the hospital and interrupted him in the middle of a cleaning spree.

For a moment, she merely stood there and looked at him as he balanced a pile of laundry and several dirty dishes at once before she burst into laughter. Draco dropped the laundry at once, but the plates and mugs started to float next to him.

“What?!” he asked.

“Since when are _you_ doing housework?” Astoria asked, still sniggering. “I mean, don’t you have a house-elf for that?”

“She’s busy at my parent’s manor,” he argued and Astoria followed his eyes around the small flat. Well, it could certainly do with a little cleaning.

Eventually, her eyes settled back on Draco and she noticed the look he was giving her in return, that hint of concern she had grown used to over the last couple of days mixed with a look of sheer happiness. She only had to give a little nod before Draco darted forward and closed his arms around her in a tight hug - even though he was careful to avoid touching where the spell had hit her. In return, she wrapped herself around his neck and let herself sink into the moment. They just stood there for a long while, wrapped in a tight embrace and it felt like it was all she had needed to heal. After everything that had happened, the attack, the hospital stay, the days spent with her family, Draco’s hug was the first thing that made her feel better. Astoria relished the moment, enjoying the warmth of his chest and the scent of his aftershave until he let her go.

Even though he smiled at her when their eyes met once more, Astoria could still spot the concern in his expression. “How are you feeling?” he wanted to know.

She gave a short nod. “Not yet up to 100 percent, but better,” she confirmed and then, reality caught up with her like a hard whack across the back of the head. The reason why she had come in the first place and it wasn’t just because she had missed him. “There is something I have to tell you.”

Draco’s face lit up with a smile. “Me too, actually.”

“Can I go first?”

Even though Draco was almost bursting now, eager to tell her what was on his mind, Astoria was the one who needed to confess first. For days, she had kept the secret and it was desperate to get out. Eventually, Draco nodded and gestured towards the chairs where they sat down. Astoria only waited until they were both seated before the words began to tumble out of her mouth.

“I think my sister is involved with the secret society,” she blurted out, eager to get this piece of information off her chest.

Draco’s eyes widened in response. It was clear that whatever he had meant to say wasn’t even remotely related to her issue, but he still let her continue. Well, it wasn’t as if she gave him much of a choice.

“She is close friends with Theodore Nott,” Astoria went on. “I always thought he was creepy and even Blaise suspected him of having something to do with it. But then, at the hospital, the way Daphne looked at me… I just knew.”

“Knew what?” Draco wanted to know. He reached across the table and gently placed his hand on hers, just like he had at the hospital, just like he had so many times before.

“That she _knew_ ,” Astoria replied. “She looked at me like she knew I was lying about the injury and there is only one way she could know. She was there, too. It all makes sense now. Why she got into a fight with Blaise on their date, why she’s always staying out late. She’s involved.”

When Draco blew the air out between his teeth, Astoria could feel him shudder. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, his gaze lowered to the table surface. “If I had known earlier, I wouldn’t have talked to Potter. I… I didn’t want to drag _your_ family into it, too.”

There was something strange about the way he stressed his words, so Astoria raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean by that?”

It took him a moment, but when he finally looked at her again, the guilt was visible on his face. “I think my father is involved with them, too. But if I had known about Daphne-”

“You still should have talked to Harry,” Astoria finished his sentence, even if not in the way he had intended. “Whatever Daphne does, to whatever degree she is involved in, it is wrong. If she messed up, that is her problem, not yours. As for your father-”

“My mother said the same things,” Draco admitted. “That he brought it upon himself. I know she’s right, but… he’s still my father.”

In response to his doubt, she placed her other hand over his, casing it in both of her palms with a gentle squeeze. “If we don’t want to repeat what happened in the war, we need to start doing what is right and stop doing what we think our families would want. Because, believe it or not, our families are flawed. And it’s time they faced the consequences of their actions. Like you are doing.”

Their eyes met across the table and she could see the flicker of a smile pass over Draco’s face.

“I admire you for that, you know?” she said in all seriousness. “It would be so easy for you to hide behind your family’s wealth and the walls of your manor. But you’re actually trying to be a better person. That takes a lot of courage.”

A hint of red crept into Draco’s cheeks and he smiled in earnest now, but when he opened his mouth again, the look in his eyes seemed serious. “Astoria, there is something I have to tell you. I-”

Once again, Draco was interrupted, but this time, it wasn’t her family barging into a hospital room. The Interruption began with the sound of Apparating and they both turned around to see Blaise appear in the middle of Draco’s living room.

When his eyes fell in them, he uttered a sigh of relief. “Oh good,” he said. “You’re both okay. I came ‘round a few times, but you were never home.”

The expression on Draco’s face should have been one of relief over finding his friend unharmed, but the knitted eyebrows told Astoria that Blaise’s interruption couldn’t have come at a worse time. Would she ever find out what he wanted to tell her?

“I was taking care of a few things,” Draco replied grumpily. “What happened to you on New Year’s Eve? You just vanished.”

Without waiting for Draco’s invitation and completely ignoring the fact that they were still holding hands above the table, Blaise dropped down in the seat next to Astoria and inhaled deeply. “That is a long story,” he said. “And I want to hear yours, too.”

She and Draco exchanged a quick glance before they both pulled their hands away. It wasn’t the conversation they had wanted to have right now, but at the same time, they were curious about what Blaise had to say. So they said and listened to how he got trapped in a strange labyrinth of corridors with no apparent way out and, in turn, told him everything that had happened during the last couple of days. As it turned out, it was indeed a long story.


	36. Chapter 36

Draco would tell her _tonight_ and nothing, _nothing_ would stand in his way. Not Astoria’s parents, not Blaise, not even his own cowardice that had a habit of popping up whenever he opened his mouth to confess his feelings for Astoria. Draco had wasted so many years of his life grieving a past that hadn’t brought him any happiness, so now was the time to move towards a future that might. Whatever Astoria replied, whatever she felt for him, it couldn’t be worse than what was already behind him and he was tired of floating in a limbo of maybes.

Tonight, Draco was going to change that. Because he couldn’t always rely on Dibly’s help, who was his parents’ house-elf after all, Draco had asked the elf to teach him how to cook and once he was confident that the result was actually edible, he had invited Astoria over for dinner - to celebrate their little victory in recovering the book. Even though she had pointed out that it had been kind of fruitless, seeing as Draco had just handed it over to the Aurors, she had eventually agreed very happily to join him for a meal.

Now, dinner was ready, a few candles floated above the table and Draco was wearing a casual suit. It was almost time for Astoria to arrive when suddenly, he thought he might have gone a little overboard. Would she think it was too much? Should he maybe blow out the candles and change into something less formal?

Draco didn’t have time to change his mind, however, because just as he was approaching the candles to get rid of them, a familiar _plop_ echoed through the room and Astoria stood right behind him. Draco spun around.

Over the last months, Draco had grown so used to being in her presence, learned to feel comfortable with her in a way he had never been with anyone else. Astoria was the only one who had listened without judgement, and if she had judged him, she had been right to do so and absolutely honest about it. In turn, Draco had told her his deepest, darkest secrets, even shared his memories with her, so it came as quite a surprise when he suddenly felt lost for words.

As she stood next to the fireplace, a smile on her face, Draco realised that something had changed. The kiss had changed them. Where he had been confident before, there was now a stutter in his heartbeat that betrayed his nervousness. Where he had been comfortable before, he now felt that he couldn’t speak with his throat as dry as sand. Secretly loving her in the privacy of his thoughts, barely aware he was even doing it, was entirely different from looking her in the eye and confessing his feelings.

Then, her smile turned into a frown. “Something wrong?” Astoria wanted to know. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Draco opened his mouth, feeling a bit like a fish in the water with a dumb look on his face, but then closed it again and shook his head. “I just didn’t expect you yet.”

Astoria chuckled, but then her eyes trailed from his suit to the dinner table with the floating candles. Draco cursed himself internally. He should have gotten rid of those. It was too much. Yet when she spoke, he thought he heard approval in her voice. “That looks beautiful,” she remarked, her voice now soft. “Is there a special occasion?”

Now. He should tell her now.

“I just thought we should celebrate the little victory,” Draco replied instead. Coward. He was a coward. “And the fact that you’re feeling better.”

He could tell from her arched eyebrow that Astoria wasn’t buying it. Carefully, she stepped closer, her eyes flicking back and forth from the obviously romantic setup to his face and she didn’t stop until she was standing right in front of him. Draco gulped and felt the urge to step back, but he decided to stand his ground.

Astoria smiled knowingly. “That seems like an awful lot of work for such a small victory,” she argued, nodding towards the meal that was slowly getting cold. “Did you ask Dibly to help you cook again?”

“I, uh-” Draco spluttered. Astoria took another step. She was so close now that Draco was able to smell her sweet perfume and it didn’t help his nervousness at all. “I cooked. Dibly showed me how.”

The chuckle was back and this time, it turned into an honest laugh. If Astoria knew what he was trying to do, she seemed to find it greatly amusing. If she didn’t, she would probably think that he was acting very strangely. Yet while he was still uncertain about what to do next, Astoria reached out and took his hand.

“That was a very sweet thing to do,” she told him earnestly, but the amusement was still audible in her voice. When she touched him, Draco felt his palm grow sweaty. If he was brave enough, he would pull her closer and kiss her right now just to get rid of this awful tension and insecurity between them.

“Astoria, I have something that I need to say to you,” he finally blurted out. His heart was bouncing in his chest and his stomach felt like it was twisting into a knot. He couldn’t possibly enjoy his dinner before he had talked to her.

Smiling, she looked back at him. “Alright, say it,” Astoria replied, looking at him expectantly.

Draco inhaled deeply. He had a perfect speech laid out, but the words just seemed to float through his brain without arranging themselves in the right order. He had never been in this particular dilemma before. She had never actually been in love before. This was something new and scary and he was desperate to do it right.

Astoria seemed to realise that he wasn’t going to speak up, so she did something that took him by surprise as much as it had the last time. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. The sensation of skin on skin, however brief it was, seemed to short-circuit Draco’s brain. All the things he had wanted to say to her vanished from his mind and instead, he allowed himself to fall into the kiss. She opened her mouth to him, however shy and hesitant, and Draco leaned in as he wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer. She felt so small and fragile in his arms which seemed silly, given the fact that she could probably knock him out with a single spell, but Draco had a feeling she wasn’t going to do that right now. Not when she had just made such an excellent point by kissing him. And kissing her felt a little like returning home to a place he had never even known before.

When she finally broke away, Astoria was chuckling once more. “That was what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”

Finally, Draco found the heart to laugh, too. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I just… I had prepared a few more words. And I still need to say them.”

Astoria nodded, her eyes twinkling with happiness. The same kind of happiness that he was feeling. Right now, at this moment, Draco finally understood what hope felt like. It couldn’t be found in the dark place he had resided in these last few years, it couldn’t be found in a perfect world where everything was okay. It was here, in the present, this brief in-between state, with her.

“Okay,” Astoria said. “Say them.”

Determined not to chicken out again, Draco opened his mouth with every intention of confessing his feelings to Astoria, but once more, the moment was ruined when a bright, green light filled the room and his fireplace came to life.

Rolling his eyes and groaning in annoyance, Draco turned his attention to the chimney the moment Harry Potter stepped inside his living room. Out of all the people in the entire world, Potter was the one he had least expected and right now, he was once again the person who annoyed him most.

Harry Potter stood in front of the fireplace and merely glanced at the romantic display before his eyes rested on Draco. “Sorry if I’ve interrupted something,” he said. Since Potter was dressed in his formal Auror robes, there was no doubt he had come here on official business - even though that didn’t exactly make Draco feel better. It seemed that whenever he came close to telling Astoria how he felt, either his own cowardice or the world turned against him. Right now, he hated his old school enemy more than ever.

“What do you want?!” Draco barked at him.

“I’ve come with a proposal,” Harry replied politely, ignoring Draco’s mood completely. “Shall we sit and talk about it for a moment?”

Draco growled in response. “Why not? You’ve already ruined the mood.”

Astoria nudged him in the ribs, obviously reminding him to be a little nicer, but there was no chance in hell he was going to be nice to the man who ruined his evening.

With a quick spell, Draco extinguished the candles and made room at the table so they could talk and while he and Astoria sat on one side, Harry Potter took a seat at the other end. He didn’t hesitate for very long before he began to talk.

“I won’t beat about the bush, I’m here because of what you told me at the hospital,” Potter announced. “I discussed it with a couple of colleagues from the Auror office. I discussed it with Hermione, too, and she came up with a plan for how we might proceed. And I’m afraid I need your help with that.”

In response, Draco glowered at his old nemesis. “And why should I help you?”

Another soft punch from Astoria made him sit up straight, but it wasn’t enough to make him correct his question.

“Well, I already promised you that your mother and Ms Greengrass will be left out of the investigation. After what you’ve told me, I see no reason to involve them at all. However, right now, if we were to investigate this secret organisation, your name would probably end up on a couple of files. Given your record, that might be enough to reopen your case. If you remember correctly, there were conditions to your acquittal.”

Draco’s gaze grew even darker and even Astoria seemed to hold her breath next to him.

“However, you’ve been cooperative. You approached the Auror office first, you handed over a dangerous book, you confessed to having made mistakes. If you were to… aid in the investigation, there would be no further consequences for you.”

“What exactly do you mean by _aid in the investigation_?” Astoria’s curious voice rang through the air, taking Draco by surprise.

She wasn’t honestly considering it for him, was she?

Harry Potter cleared his throat. “Well, Draco mentioned you needed a coin to get in. If you were to go to the next meeting and wear a charm that would allow the Aurors to track you, we could get in and arrest everyone on the spot.”

“I don’t have the coin,” Draco responded immediately, “Blaise does.”

Potter, seemingly undeterred by that fact, shrugged. “The more, the merrier.”

Still, Draco scowled at him from across the table. He had told Potter everything, but he had assumed his help would stop there. He had never agreed to lure the Aurors to where the most dangerous witches and wizards were currently congregating.

Eventually, Harry Potter sighed. “I’m trying to help you out, Draco,” he admitted wearily. “You did the right thing, coming to me, telling me about all of that. I’d hate to see you get punished for it. As soon as the Aurors arrive, you and Blaise would be free to leave. There’s no need for you to join the fight. I won’t lie to you and tell you it isn’t dangerous at all, but we can’t see any other way to get to them.”

When Astoria nudged him again, it was gentler than the previous time. Draco turned his head and looked at her, beautiful Astoria with those dark eyes and that hint of a smile on her lips. “I think you should do it,” she said. After she had kissed him earlier, after she had teased him with the promise of a future, how could he deny her that? Something in her eyes told him that she knew exactly he wouldn’t refuse if she only asked. He had never been able to say no to her. “Help the Aurors bring them down. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To put an end to all of this madness?”

With another growl, Draco faced Harry again. “Fine, I’ll talk to Blaise. If he’s in, so am I.”

Underneath the table, he felt Astoria reach for his hand. Somehow, he knew what she was going to suggest before she had even opened her mouth, so Draco used the only chance he had to prevent it.

“One more condition,” he said determinedly. “Astoria isn’t coming.”

“Draco!”

“No,” he argued strictly, his eyes set on Astoria. “I will not put you in danger ever again. I will only go if you’re not coming.”

Her sweet face turned into a deep scowl, but luckily for him, Draco received help from an unexpected source.

“I’d hate to get involved in a lovers’ quarrel, but I’m with Draco on that one. The Auror office can’t put civilian lives at risk. The only reason we’re asking Draco and Blaise is because they have access to the society,” Harry said.

“See?” Draco replied, gesturing towards Harry. “Even he agrees.”

Astoria glowered at him, but seeing as she didn’t have much of a choice, she put up no fight. Eventually, Draco leaned back with a sigh. It wasn’t how he had hoped this evening would go, but at least he now knew that once this was over, it would be over for good. Once he had led the Aurors to their lair, he could turn his back on the Dark Arts once and for all. After that, there would be no looking back. Only forward - to a future with Astoria.


	37. Chapter 37

Astoria sat on his bed, her big, dark eyes following Draco’s every move as he paced the floor in front of her. He wasn’t sure how long he had been doing that, his mind going back and forth between his confession and whatever madness he had agreed to now. Right after the talk with Harry Potter, Draco had reached out to Blaise who had informed him that the next meeting would take place the very next day. Looking down at his wrist, Draco felt the charm weighing down his arm. One touch of his hand and it would activate, calling down every Auror on duty tonight. Now, they were only waiting for Blaise.

Yet something felt wrong.

Why would they meet again so quickly? Was it because they had discovered the missing book? Was it because they wanted to find out who had done it? What if there was a spell on Blaise’s coin, similar to the one Hermione Granger had placed on the Dumbledore’s Army coins? What if he and Blaise were running straight into a trap?

“Stop worrying,” Astoria said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “You’re backed by no less than thirty Aurors.”

Still, Draco worried. He worried a lot.

When he glanced back at her, he couldn’t help but notice that she seemed tired. Drained. Draco knew why he felt that way and the reason was that he hadn’t slept because of the prospect of imminent danger, but there was no reason for Astoria to lose out on sleep.

“Are you feeling alright?” he wanted to know, honestly quite thankful to finally change the topic. “Is the wound still bothering you?”

Astoria shook her head. “I’m fine, just tired.”

“But the healer said you weren’t healing as quickly as they would like and he wanted to run more tests. Did he ever tell you what became of that?”

With a sigh, she rose from his bed and crossed the room until her hands rested on his shoulders. When she looked at him, she was smiling - however tired the smile was.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him. “And you need to stop worrying about everything.”

Slowly, Draco nodded. She was right. The Aurors, including Harry Potter, would back him up tonight. They wouldn’t even have to enter the building, just find it and activate the spell. Easy as pie. But then why didn’t he feel relaxed?

A look at the clock told him that there was still time until Blaise arrived, time enough for his confession. Draco reached out and took Astoria’s hands off his shoulders, holding them tightly in his palms.

“I never got to tell you the other night,” he began. There it was again, that accelerated heartbeat that threatened to jump out of his chest. Only this time, he wouldn’t be too cowardly to say the words. “And I need to say it now. If things go wrong tonight, I might not get another chance.”

“Nothing will go wrong.”

“Still, I want to tell you that-”

His sentence was abruptly cut short by the familiar, annoying _plop_ and Draco knew immediately that his friend had arrived even before Blaise could say a word. Draco cursed loudly. Not now. Not again. He wouldn’t accept another delay.

Cursing, he lifted his wand and pointed it straight at Blaise. “Petrificus totalus!” he shouted.

Blaise instantly went rigid and dropped to the floor like a wooden board.

Astoria gasped. “Draco!”

“I just want _one_ moment,” he hissed angrily. “Just a few minutes for a rather private conversation.”

She glanced from Blaise back to Draco an, seeing how desperate he was and how tired she probably felt, she didn’t protest any further.

“I love you,” Draco blurted out. The anger hadn’t quite left his voice up until that point, but now that he had finally said the words, he felt the fury drop off him like a bad weight. After taking a deep breath, he tried again. “I love you, Astoria. I’ve loved you for quite some time now. I’m not entirely sure when it started, whether it was the night you showed up at the hospital, holding a bottle of Butterbeer or the night we sat by the fire, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Smiling, Astoria shook her head. “No, it doesn’t matter.”

“I just wanted you to know that,” Draco admitted, dropping his gaze to his feet.

The next thing he felt was her cool palms against his cheeks. Always the cold hands. When he dared to look up, Astoria was still smiling. “I love you, too. So you better give your best tonight and come back to me. Understood?”

Chuckling, Draco nodded right before she pushed herself up on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips. “And now release your friend.”

The Auror’s Polyjuice Potion had transformed them into Muggles once more and as he and Blaise walked down the narrow street, Draco kept his hand close to the bracelet Harry Potter had given him. One touch of his hand would summon the Aurors here, but the time hadn’t come yet. This time, the Dark wizards had chosen a truly ugly place hidden among abandoned warehouses and run-down factories.

“You know,” Blaise said with a chuckle as they walked along the cracked asphalt, “the full body bind doesn’t affect the ears.”

If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with his own fears, Draco probably would have blushed. But the fact that his friend had overheard Draco’s confession was the least of his problems now.

“So what?”

Again, Blaise uttered a sound of amusement. “Nothing, I’m just glad you two are finally admitting it. It’s been quite obvious for a while,” he said. When his friend spoke next, his voice was serious. “I’m happy for you.”

Draco nodded absent-mindedly, still unable to take his mind off the problem ahead of them. What if they had figured them out? What if this was a trap set especially for them? Yet even if it wasn’t, and Draco wasn’t sure how he could tell, tonight wouldn’t be a success. He just knew it.

As they continued their walk down the street, the world around them was suddenly plunged into silence. The distant car and plane sounds from the Muggle world had vanished and been replaced by an eerie quiet where there was no sound apart from their own footsteps and breathing. Ahead of them, a tall man stepped out of a building.

“I suppose that’s our destination,” Blaise muttered quietly.

Draco grunted in confirmation before they both stepped up to the doorman who blocked their exit.

“Coin,” the tall, broad man inquired. He didn’t look like he had the last couple of times, but judging from the pose, Draco could tell that it was the same person who seemed to choose a different but similar shape every time. For all he knew, the man in front of him could be half his size without Polyjuice Potion.

As Blaise reached into his pocket, his head turned towards Draco, giving him such a subtle nod that no one but Draco would ever notice. The sign. Draco inhaled deeply and raised his hand towards his wrist.

The sound of Apparating filled the air. Not once, twice, no, around thirty Aurors in their official robes appeared all around them, popping up out of nowhere with their wands drawn and their faces in an angry scowl. The tall doorman was so surprised that it only took him a simple stunning spell to overpower him.

While most of the Aurors wasted no time in storming the building, a few of them stayed behind to secure the exit. One of them stopped right next to Draco, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You can go home now,” Harry Potter said in a calm manner. Draco thought the serenity was probably the result of years of training. Or the result of finding his life in danger more often than not, even as a child. “Thank you for your help.”

“I’m staying,” Draco said, surprising not only Blaise and Harry, but himself, as well. He hadn’t understood up until now, where a part of his uneasiness had come from, but now he understood it perfectly. His own father might be in there. Astoria’s sister might be in there. Draco had to see for himself just who he had condemned to a sentence in Azkaban just now.

Was he _hoping_ for his father to be among the arrested wizards? Would that give him and his mother peace at last? Draco wasn’t sure how he felt about it, so he stepped aside to let the Aurors do their job and watched from a distance.

When the first wizards were being marched outside by the Aurors, Draco noticed with relief that they had done something to the place to remove any Potion effects or charms they might have cast on themselves whereas Draco’s Muggle shape remained unchanged. He also realised that a lot of the faces looked more than just a little familiar.

A fellow Slytherin he had attended classes and shared a dorm with was shoved outside by an Auror, hands bound by a spell, his wand seized.

A young woman Draco faintly recognised as a Ravenclaw who had been a year older than himself followed the Slytherin.

Even Mr Borgin himself was arrested and, judging from the look on the Auror’s face who was guiding him outside, no one seemed surprised by that.

Draco watched a couple of unfamiliar faces walk past, but eventually, the procession stopped and a frown appeared on his face.

“That wasn’t everyone, was it?” Draco asked Blaise, craning his neck to get a better look at the door, but when Harry Potter stepped back outside, they both knew the building was empty.

With a sombre expression on his face, Harry approached them. “We arrested twelve wizards and will be bringing them to the Ministry right away. Again, thank you both for your help. In exchange, anything you did in regards to this group will be forgiven,” he explained, his voice weary and tired.

“That can’t have been all,” Draco argued instantly. “The last few times, there were more. Many more!”

His father. Daphne. Even though he hadn’t known for certain, Draco would have bet his entire inheritance that they would be here tonight.

“I’m afraid they might have had a feeling we were coming. Or a feeling that something might happen after you stole the book,” Harry admitted. “We will interrogate them, see if they can give any names.”

“They can’t,” Draco replied immediately. “They always made sure no one knew the others.”

“Still,” Harry said, “twelve bad wizards is twelve more than we had yesterday. And twelve less to cause trouble in the future. It wasn’t the success we had hoped for, but it’s a small success nonetheless.”

Draco nodded absent-mindedly, knowing that if his father was involved with them, he had gotten away with it again. He wasn’t sure whether Lucius Malfoy deserved that, but seeing as there was nothing left for him to do, Draco turned around on his heels and Disapparated.


	38. Chapter 38

Even as the owl hacked against her window, Astoria couldn’t find the strength to get up, however much she wanted to. She had put on a brave face in front of Draco, but the after-effects of the spell were still weighing her down, making her bones feel heavy and in need of one hundred years of sleep. If the healers didn’t figure out the cause for the delayed healing soon, she would go to St. Mungo's and examine herself.

“Just let that stupid bird in already,” her sister Daphne cursed, waltzing into her room and opening the window. Her sister’s bad mood hung around her like a cloud, poisoning every room she set foot in.

When a gust of cold air blew across Astoria’s bed, it invigorated her enough to sit up and receive the owl that came flying in to sit on her knee. With careful hands, she unfolded the letter and recognised the handwriting even before she read Draco’s words.

_I’m okay. No family in sight. I’ll tell you the details tomorrow._  
_Hope you’re okay, too._  
_Love, Draco_

With a sigh, Astoria folded the letter back up and placed it into the drawer next to her bed. She already knew that Daphne couldn’t have been at tonight’s meeting because when Astoria had started to feel faint and weak, her parents had convinced her sister to stay with her while they visited friends. Daphne had only agreed very grumpily, but she had agreed nonetheless. It made Astoria wonder whether she was really involved with the group or whether she had maybe misjudged her sister.

“I’m sorry you had to stay and babysit me,” Astoria said while her sister still stood by the window, waiting to close it after the owl had rushed back out.

Daphne shrugged. “I didn’t have plans anyway.”

Astoria bored her eyes into her sister’s and searched for any kind of clue, but there was none. The sad truth was that she didn’t really know Daphne at all. Once again, she regretted not being closer to her sister.

As it was, there was only one way to find out.

“You didn’t want to go to your secret meeting tonight?” Astoria asked, trying to sound brave. She didn’t feel very brave at all, just scared of the truth. Yet she needed it.

To her surprise, Daphne chuckled. “You figured that out, didn’t you? Did you recognise me or was it your boyfriend? Or Blaise? I saw all three of you on New Year’s Eve right before you stole from the vault.”

“You’re not even trying to deny that you’re involved with them?” Astoria gawked at her sister who suddenly seemed like a stranger to her.

Yet Daphne didn’t appear to feel that way as she sat down on her bed. “I’m sorry that you got hurt, okay? People have tried to steal from us before and the Dementors have always deterred them. I thought they’d scare you off.”

Now it wasn’t the cold air that invigorated her but her anger. Astoria sat up straight, staring at her sister in sheer disbelief. “ _That’s_ what you’re apologising for?! That I got hurt?! Not because you’re practising the Dark Arts or keeping Dementors as pets or the fact that you almost _killed_ Draco with that spell your people gave him a few months ago?!”

Daphne looked a little taken aback by her questions. Nevertheless, she remained calm. “Okay, fine,” she admitted eventually, blowing the air out between her teeth. “We shouldn’t have given Draco that spell, which, by the way, wasn’t me. But apart from that, we’re not hurting anyone. Everyone is fine with the magic we practise there. In private. We’re not Death Eaters, for Merlin’s sake, we’re not going around, attacking Muggles. It’s just a little fun.”

“That little bit of fun could have landed you in Azkaban tonight!” Astoria spat angrily. “And you’re tampering with Time Magic! I can think of a lot of ways that could hurt people, wizards and Muggles alike!”

Astoria was ready to yell at her sister a little more, unable to grasp what was going on inside Daphne’s head, but she never got the chance when the world suddenly began to spin around her again. It was as if her bed had been chucked into the sea and rough waves were throwing it around, turning it in circles, and she needed to lie back down. Her sister seemed to recognise it and decided to give her some space by removing herself from her bed.

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” she suggested carefully. “When you feel better.”

Astoria didn’t reply. Instead, she turned on her side and closed her eyes. Daphne’s steps grew quieter until they suddenly stopped by the door.

“I really am sorry,” she said once more. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. That’s not why I joined them.”

When Astoria didn’t acknowledge her apology, Daphne quietly closed the door.

Despite her exhaustion, Astoria didn’t sleep. Even when the room had stopped turning around her, the thoughts circling through her head wouldn’t let her find the rest she needed. A part of her just couldn’t believe what Daphne had said, that she had so easily admitted to being part of the secret society, admitted to the forbidden magic they practised and even after several people had gotten hurt, her sister still defended them and their intentions.

Astoria was still angry when she heard the front door open and her parents walked back into the house. A glance at the clock on her nearby bedside table told her that it wasn’t even ten in the evening, so she felt a little surprised that her parents were already back. Their dinners usually lasted beyond midnight.

She was even more surprised when her father’s heavy footsteps became audible on the stairs and stopped right in front of her room before the door opened as quietly as possible.

With a smile on her lips, Astoria sighed. “I’m still awake,” she said softly.

Her father stepped closer, illuminating her bedside lamp with his wand. She felt her bed sink where he sat right before an audible sigh filled the air.

“You’re back early,” Astoria remarked and finally sat up in her bed. The dizziness and nausea had subsided now and if she hadn’t been so tired, she might have left her bed altogether. Briefly, she wondered whether she should tell her father about Daphne’s _friends_ , but the obvious worry lines on his face told her that now wasn’t the right time for that.

Still, her father made an attempt to smile. It was rare to see him so beaten, so whatever was wrong with him, Astoria was sure that he would share it with her. “I just couldn’t relax, knowing you’re here and not feeling well.”

Astoria smiled right back at him. “That was unnecessary. I’ll be fine. I just need a little more time to heal, that’s all.”

When she had hoped her father would agree, she was mistaken. Instead, he lowered his gaze, now looking more worried than ever. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she could have sworn she saw grief in his eyes. This was serious for him.

“How much do you remember of your grandmother?” her father asked.

The question took Astoria by surprise and a frown appeared on her forehead the moment she had processed it. She sat up straight and considered her answer before replying, knowing that whatever she was going to say, it was somehow important to her dad.

The truth was, she barely remembered her grandmother, her father’s mother, at all. When Astoria thought about her, a face sprang into her mind, but she guessed that it had come from a photograph rather than an actual memory. Her grandmother had died when she was still very little.

“I remember visiting her once,” she replied without thinking. Even though her face might not be immortalised in her memory, she did recall a trip to St. Mungo’s as a little girl. A frail woman had patted her head then, telling her what a sweet girl she was. But after that, all Astoria recalled were photographs of the woman.

Her father nodded, the expression in his eyes something close to devastation. “Your grandmother was very ill by the end. She always put on a brave face, tried not to let it show, but she had been suffering from it ever since she was a young woman.”

“What was wrong with her?” Astoria found herself asking. It wasn’t often that her father talked about his family, so naturally, she was curious.

His shoulders sank even lower and his eyes never met hers as he continued. “One of our ancestors was cursed,” her father explained, scoffing softly. “Abigail Greengrass. Right after she married her husband Theophilus. She was supposed to have married someone else, but she and Theophilus fell in love and married in secret. When the truth came out, her former betrothed cursed her. She died only a few years after her children were born.”

A knot, deep and dark, began to form in the pit of her stomach. The healer in her had a feeling where this conversation was going, but the young woman in her refused to believe it. Astoria had heard of blood curses during her training even though she had never encountered one herself. They were rare for the simple reason that the sufferers usually didn’t live long enough to have children of their own, which was why most of the blood curses had died out many years ago.

“Are you saying my grandmother died of a hereditary blood curse?” Astoria asked and realised that her voice was shaking. The knot in her stomach tightened.

It couldn’t be. Blood curses were a thing of the past, illegal to cast now, impossible to have survived for so many generations.

Yet her father nodded gravely.

“No,” Astoria argued instantly. “Blood curses don’t exist anymore. I learned that during my training as a healer. The last known case was-”

She broke off when her father reached out to take her hand and she realised at once how hollow her own words sounded, how her voice basically screamed in denial. If her grandmother really had died from a blood curse, her father would know. And he wouldn’t have told her this unless…

“You think I have it.”

The realisation hit her like a hard whack across the head.

“Your grandmother started noticing the signs when she was around your age, right after she had me,” he explained. “She started to feel weak and dizzy at first. The healers didn’t know what was wrong with her, but we found the answer in an old diary. The blood curse isn’t something our family likes to talk about.”

“Apparently, since this is the first time I’m hearing of it!” Astoria spat at him in reply. Immediately, she wanted to clap her hand over her mouth, but she knew that she had every reason to be angry. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Daphne? Or anyone?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you,” her father argued. “Not every Greengrass inherited the condition.”

Astoria drew her hand back and crossed her arms in front of her chest. The blood curse couldn’t have been passed on to her. She didn’t have it. It would have come to light much sooner, someone at St. Mungo’s would have picked it up during the many tests they had practised on each other during their training. She was a young and healthy woman - apart from the annoying wound her sister’s curse had inflicted on her on New Year’s Eve.

In response, her father sighed once more and then reached into his pocket, drawing out a little note that he handed to Astoria.

“What’s that? Some old diary entry?” she asked gruffly.

“It’s the spell that can detect the curse,” he explained gently. “It needs to be cast by someone else, but it can tell you with certainty whether-”

His words ended abruptly and Astoria could tell he was struggling with this as much as she was, but while her father was still entertained the notion that she might suffer from a deadly illness, Astoria outright refused to believe that it was true.

She would have known. She would have felt it. She was a young woman whose life had only just begun. There was no way she was going to die young and she refused to believe anything else.


	39. Chapter 39

Draco stared at the words in front of him, clasping the slip of paper so tightly that it wrinkled between his finger, and he felt his heart sink into his boots. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he felt so disappointed, but after the events of the previous weeks, after what had happened last night, it felt like every minute he didn’t spend with Astoria was a wasted minute.

_Dear Draco,_  
_I’m so relieved to hear that everything went well last night. I know that it wasn’t the success we had hoped for, but it was a small success nonetheless. You did the right thing, a brave thing, and I’m proud of you._  
_But I’m afraid I can’t meet you this morning. Something came up last night I have some family business to take care of. I’ll meet you afterwards._

_Love_  
_Astoria_

Even though his heart felt a sudden, warm glow as his eyes stopped at a certain four-letter word, Draco couldn’t help but feel crestfallen. After struggling with the aftermath of the war, after struggling with his own past and his feelings, after the entire mess revolving around the secret society, Draco had hoped to find peace at last and he had hoped to find it with Astoria. He couldn’t explain the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, the feeling that there was another shoe just waiting to drop, but it was there and it wouldn’t let him find the state peace he so craved. As he held Astoria’s letter in his hands, the words sounded so much like her and, a second later, not like her at all.  
Sighing audibly, Draco put the letter aside. There was no point in worrying about it until he had spoken to her in person.

* * *

When Draco couldn’t bear the wait any longer, he decided that it was time to deal with one thing he had been putting off for a long time. While his mother had shared her suspicion about her husband with Draco, he had never informed her about the full extent of his involvement. Whether or not Lucius Malfoy was indeed part of the secret society didn’t matter, but Draco knew that his mother deserved to know just what he had figured out.

Narcissa Malfoy looked surprised when she opened the door to her son, even though Draco wasn’t entirely sure whether it was because of his spontaneous visit or because he had decided to knock on the door rather than Apparate right into the manor. Draco knew that he could have, but it was beginning to feel wrong to just waltz in when he no longer felt at home in Malfoy Manor.

Eventually, his mother smiled at him. “You’re a bit early for lunch,” she remarked but opened the door a little wider for him to enter.

“I didn’t exactly come here for food,” Draco replied with a hint of a smile.

“That’s right.” There was a look of amusement on Narcissa’s face and it made what he was going to say even harder. “Dibly mentioned that she taught you how to cook.”

“Yeah, I wanted to do something nice for Astoria.”

His mother led him into the sitting room where a fire was crackling and an open book lay discarded on the armrest of her favourite chair. Draco knew that he had interrupted her reading and it seemed strange that he felt surprised by that. All his life, his mother had followed her own rituals, reading in the sitting room being one of them, and he had never really paid attention to any of them. Sometimes, it felt like he had only started to get to know who his parents really were after the war.

Dibly showed up only a minute later, offering Draco a cup of tea with a broad smile which he returned immediately, along with a genuine Thank You. That, too, had taken a while, but he had grown fond of the elf at last.

“You’re treating Dibly well, aren’t you?” Draco wanted to know.

“Of course,” his mother responded immediately. “She is a good elf.”

Draco nodded absent-mindedly and sat down in the other chair while taking a sip from his tea, all too aware that his mother was watching him.

“Why have you come here, Draco?”

He inhaled deeply and when he spoke, his words were low and careful. Draco told his mother about how he helped Harry Potter find the secret society of Dark wizards, how they had captured a few and how his own father hadn’t been among them. As she listened, Narcissa nodded carefully and waited for his son to finish, waited for him to admit that he wasn’t sure whether he had hoped for his own father to be arrested or not. Even now, after a day had passed, Draco wasn’t sure which outcome he would have preferred. He didn’t _want_ to see Lucius Malfoy in prison, but he wanted closure above else. He wanted for the darkness to be over.

Yet when he had finished and Narcissa opened her mouth to respond, she never even got the chance. Even though Draco hadn’t heard his steps before and he wasn’t entirely sure he could rule out that his father had appeared out of nowhere, Lucius Malfoy stepped into the sitting room.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day where my own wife and son are talking about wanting to send me to Azkaban,” he said. There was no malice in his voice, no anger, nothing but sheer indifference.

Both Draco and Narcissa turned their heads in his direction, both taken aback by his sudden appearance, both unsure of what to say to him.

“You were right, Draco,” his father said. “I was part of the group and even though I would have liked to avoid admitting that I still own some of the most precious books, you handing that one over to Theodore Nott did help me in the end.”

Draco’s forehead wrinkled in a deep, dark frown. Helping his father was the last thing he had wanted and even though he had only tried to help himself, he had righted that error in the end. Or so he had believed. He also failed to reconcile the name Theodore Nott with the strange woman he had encountered.

Suddenly, Lucius Malfoy stepped forward and the expression on his face changed. It was one Draco hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. His father’s eyes gleamed with excitement, even _mania_ as he came closer and addressed his family directly.

“I know I’ve been withdrawn lately, I know I wasn’t around as much as you would have liked, but there is a reason for that. And I also know that we have suffered since the end of the war, but I finally have a way to make it right,” Lucius announced, the words tumbling out of his mouth as if he couldn’t say them fast enough.

Still, the only thing Draco felt was confusion. A glance towards his mother showed him that she felt the same.

Lucius Malfoy, now grinning at them, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device, holding it out so they could get a proper look.

“This,” he said, “this is why I joined the Cult of Darkness.”

“The _Cult of Darkness_?” Draco asked in disbelief. It wasn’t the fact that his father admitted it now which surprised him, it was something else entirely. “I didn’t think you could actually come up with something that sounds even more stupid than _Death Eaters_.”

“Is that a Time-Turner?” When Narcissa spoke, her voice rang through the air like a bell and the air vibrated with her fear and disgust.

“This is our way out,” Lucius replied, completely ignoring Draco’s earlier remark. His voice had reached an almost feverish level of mania. “This is how we can still win the war.”

Draco rose to his feet in a matter of seconds. “The war is _over_ ,” he shouted at his father. “Voldemort lost. _You_ lost. The world has long moved on from that!”

“Not necessarily,” his father argued. “Using the Time-Turner, we can go back. We can do or undo anything we want. We could bring back the Dark Lord and win back his favour.”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse about the disgusting Snakehead’s favour!” Draco spat back at him. “Voldemort’s death was the best thing that could have ever happened to us and I am never, ever going back! I’m done living in the past, I’m done hiding, I just want it all to go away for good!”

“So do I!” Lucius said excitedly. “And this is how we do it! We don’t have to bring back Voldemort. We could change things just for us, regain out old status. We could-”

“We could finally admit that we messed up, stop living in the past and work on building a better future!”

“But-”

Lucius words were drowned out when Narcissa Malfoy stood up and raised her voice above the two of them. Draco had rarely heard his mother angry, but the way she commanded the room simply by standing up made him respect her more than he ever had before.

“Lucius Malfoy,” she said, her voice calm and yet, at the same time, so full of determination and strength that Draco was left with little doubt that she meant every single word. “If you use that Time-Turner to bring back Voldemort, to change anything about the outcome of the war, to undo even the smallest step our son has taken to build a life for himself, I swear to Merlin that I will strangle you in your sleep.”

His father opened his mouth to reply, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. His mother, however, wasn’t quite done yet.

“You have a choice, Lucius,” she hissed. “But so do I and if you continue to use the Dark Arts, I will leave you. I don’t care what it takes, I don’t care about your status or mine, but I will not remain under this roof with a Dark wizard for a moment longer.”

Lucius scoffed in reply. “You can’t mean that. Where would you even go?”

His mother shrugged. “Dromeda and I haven’t been on the best of terms, but I doubt she would deny her sister a place to sleep.”

“And my offer still stands,” Draco added. “You’re welcome to stay with me at any time.”

His father looked back and forth between his wife and his son, clearly searching their faces for even a trace of approval and finding none. Slowly, Draco watched the excitement drain from his face as if was replaced by despair.

“I did it for you,” he argued. “Everything I did, I did for you. I wanted the best life for my family.”

“Well, you failed sublimely,” Draco remarked.

As quickly as it had appeared, the despair vanished from his father’s face who was now glaringly angrily towards Draco. “Didn’t I give you anything you ever wanted as a child? Didn’t I provide you with more than you could ask for?!”

“Not the things I actually wanted!” he shouted back at him. “I wanted your love! I wanted you to care about me! I wanted to be happy! You never gave me any of those things! What I got was a childhood spent in the shadow of the Dark Arts and this.”

Draco pulled up his sleeve and bared his Dark Mark in front of his family. Astoria had been right about everything she had said to him, she had been right from the very beginning even though he hadn’t seen it until now. He would never be able to get rid of it even though, given the chance, he still would. It was a part of him and always would be, just like the past was always going to be a part of him. But Draco had grown tired of fighting it, of hiding it. He was no longer afraid of admitting that he had made mistakes. Just as he was proud of the things he had gotten right.

“I was a Death Eater,” Draco admitted. “Not by choice, but I still did terrible things in Voldemort’s name. I feel ashamed. I feel guilty. I regret what happened during the war, but I would never change anything. If it wasn’t for the shame and the guilt, I’d still be the spoiled, little git that used to hide behind his father’s skirt. I’m not him anymore. I don’t ever want to be him again. I accept my past, father, and I’m trying to be better in the future. Do the same.”

His father exhaled sharply after Draco’s sudden outburst and looked towards his wife for reassurance, but Narcissa merely stood there. Her eyes didn’t leave Draco and she nodded with a hint of a smile on her lips.

Lucius Malfoy had lost. He knew he had lost when he sank down on his knees in the middle of the sitting room. For a moment, Draco wasn’t sure what was happening until his father’s weak voice spoke again and then he realised that he was crying.

“I don’t know how,” Lucius admitted.

Slowly, Narcissa stepped forward and surprised Draco when she also went down to kneel next to her husband. She placed a gentle hand on her crying husband’s shoulder.

“I’ll help you,” she offered. Then, her voice grew stern again. “If you promise to never touch the Dark Arts ever again.”

Draco took in the spectacle in front of his eyes and considered his options. For so long, he had felt like his father had ruined his life and hated him for it, but as his sobs resounded from the walls of the sitting room, Draco felt the hatred abate.

He, too, sank down on his knees and reached for his mother’s hand. “We could start by handing over your precious books to the Ministry,” Draco suggested. “I know an Auror who could help keep us out of trouble.”

At that, Lucius Malfoy’s head shot up. “But my books-”

“Are a thing of the past,” Draco finished his sentence. “And if I ever move back home, I’d like that particular wing of the manor for myself.”

It took a while, but eventually, his father nodded in agreement. What happened next happened so suddenly, so quietly that it was hardly noticeable. A weight dropped off Draco’s shoulders, a weight he hadn’t even realised he was carrying until it was gone, but when he searched his heart for an answer, Draco recognised the emotion as forgiveness. He had started to forgive his father even though there was still a long and tough journey ahead of them.


	40. Chapter 40

Astoria squinted her eyes at the writing in front of her without ever taking in their content. She had spent most of the day in her family home’s attic, searching the old family diaries for clues, reading up on the mysterious curse that had taken the lives of several Greengrass family members. Her intention had been to find something that would prove she _couldn’t_ suffer from the same curse, but the more she read, the more Astoria had to admit that she was proving the exact opposite. But she couldn’t give up. Even though her eyes were tired and in pain, she had to read on and find something, anything, that could prove useful to her. A symptom that would tell her she didn’t suffer from a blood curse or a clue that could help find a cure. She was a healer, after all. And what kind of healer was she if she couldn’t even heal herself?

A sudden knock on the door startled her and made Astoria turn around. Her father stood in the doorway, wearing that ever-present look of worry on his face.

“Your mother made lunch. Would you like some?” he asked carefully.

Astoria opened her mouth, ready to respond that she wasn’t hungry and still had some research to do, but before she had a chance, her father continued.

“Before you say you’re not hungry, may I remind you that that’s what you said about breakfast?”

With a sigh, Astoria rose to her feet. Her father was right. She had already skipped breakfast and even though she didn’t feel like eating, it wouldn’t help her recovery to skip meals just to do research. Besides, she had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to find a satisfactory answer in the old diaries. No, the answer she needed was folded up in her pocket - the spell her father had given her that would determine for certain whether she was cursed or not. Yet Astoria hadn’t had the courage to cast it yet, or rather - to have someone cast it on her.

There was only one person she trusted enough to do it and that person was already awaiting her. Yet Astoria knew that she couldn’t possibly put on a brave face in front of Draco, not after what she had learned last night. However, she also couldn’t avoid him forever.

* * *

It was already late in the afternoon when Astoria finally gathered the courage and took the Floo Network straight to Draco’s flat. There, she found him lying on his bed, the book he was reading floating above his head and even though she hadn’t felt like it all day, an involuntary smile spread across her face at the sight of him. Being near him, in Draco’s presence, always felt strangely like coming come.

He hadn’t heard her arrive and Astoria guessed that it must have been an exceptionally compelling book, so she sneaked up to his bed and lay down by his side. Finally, his head turned, a look of surprise on his face. Apparently, Draco had neglected to keep up his spell because, just a second later, the book came down and fell right into his face.

“Ow!”

Astoria burst into laughed. It felt good, so good to be here, to be with him. Despite it all, despite her worries, Draco never failed to make her laugh.

“Stop laughing, this is your fault,” he grumbled playfully and tossed the book aside in an angry gesture. It fell on the floor right as Draco’s eyes turned back on her.

Yet even though he must have noticed her smile, even though she had tried her best to hide it, Draco’s eyes saw right through her. The expression faded from his face when he realised that something was wrong.

“What happened?” he asked.

In response, Astoria leaned forward and kissed him, placing her palm on his cheek to pull him closer to her. She waited for him to open up to her and let her in, waiting until he allowed them to sink into the kiss. If only she could freeze this very moment so it would never have to pass. Neither of them would have to age or die and they could live an eternity in this tiny bubble of happiness that they had found in each other.

When Draco pulled away in need of air, Astoria granted him a smile even though she knew it wouldn’t be entirely convincing. “You go first,” she prompted him.

“No, _you_ go first,” Draco replied, still sounding a little breathless after their shared kiss. “There’s something on your mind. I can tell.”

Sighing, Astoria adjusted her position on his pillow. The bed felt extremely comfortable and she would have been content to just lie here with him. “There is, but I still want you to go first. Mine’s a long story.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re horrible,” he remarked, followed by Astoria’s chuckle. Then, he began at last. “There isn’t actually much to tell. Or there is. I don’t know. The raid last night was a disappointment. They arrested twelve people and the only one I actually knew was Mr Borgin. Then, when I visited my mother this morning, my father had a little surprise for us.”

Astoria cocked her eyebrows, listening eagerly to Draco’s story about how his father had been the one to commission the Time-Turner, how he had tried to convince them to use it and had, in turn, been convinced to leave the past behind.

“That is good, though,” Astoria argued immediately. “You and your father made peace.”

“But it’s up to him to keep it,” Draco said determinedly. “I don’t think my mother was joking when she said she would strangle him in his sleep.”

Astoria chuckled at the thought of Narcissa Malfoy threatening her husband. She had only had one real conversation with Draco’s mother, but she knew that Narcissa was a force to be reckoned with.

“Now, what did you want to tell me?” Draco prompted, looking at her so expectantly that Astoria knew there was no way out. For a moment, she considered lying to him or just telling him about Daphne and her involvement with the _Cult of Darkness_ which was by far the silliest name they could have come up with for their secret society.

Yet as she looked into Draco’s eyes, Astoria knew that she couldn’t lie even if she broke his heart, even if the mere thought of telling him turned her stomach into a tight knot.

“My father told me something about our family last night,” she admitted. Astoria averted her gaze. She couldn’t look at Draco while she told him. “There is a curse that runs through our family. A curse that took my grandmother’s life when she was still quite young. It made her weak before her death, dizzy, nauseous. She was very frail by the end. It’s the kind of blood curse that can be passed on through generations.”

Before she continued, Astoria reached into her pocket and pulled out the small slip of paper that contained the spell. It only took a minute and she would know for sure.

“Are… are you saying you might have the same curse?” Draco asked. Astoria could hear him swallow hard. She could almost hear how his thoughts clicked as he tried to process what she was saying.

In response, she held up the spell. “This would tell me for certain,” she explained, “but I’m not sure if I want to know. It would be so easy to cast if I knew for sure that I was fine, but what if I’m not? What if this tells me that I’m going to die, that I only have a few years left? Do I want to live with the sword of Damocles dangling over my head?”

When the words tumbled out of Astoria’s mouth, the tears came. She had been too afraid to cry before, afraid to admit that she was afraid, no matter how silly it sounded. The moment she admitted she was weak, she had already lost.

Draco swallowed once more and cleared his throat before he snatched the paper out of her hands and sat up in bed. There was a look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite understand, so she followed his example and sat up, too.

“Before you say anything else, there is something I have to say to you.”

“Oh, _now_ you want to go first?” Astoria asked, not sure if she was teasing him or whether she felt angry.

“Yes,” Draco determined, looking right at her, “because I need you to know before you say anything else, before you cast the spell, before you… know for sure.”

Astoria could do nothing but stare at him and wait for Draco to say what he wanted her to know. She had no idea what it could be.

“Astoria,” he began carefully, “I love you.”

Despite her own feelings, she started to smile. “I know that, you already told me. And I love you, too, but-”

“There is more,” Draco said, interrupting her sentence. “You saved my life and not just literally. When I was so caught up in my own self-pity, in my family’s darkness, in the horrors of Voldemort’s reign, you were there and you showed me a way out. I couldn’t have done it without your help. I needed help even though I didn’t realise it at first and you were there. You took my hand and showed me that there was more. You showed me how to live a life actually worth living. I will never stop being grateful and loving you for that.”

Now, it was Astoria’s turn to swallow and clear her throat. She had somehow known how Draco felt about her, but to actually hear it from him was the sweetest thing he could have done.

“And while I’m not even remotely over what happed during the war, while I’m going to carry it with me for the rest of my life, I’m ready to give back,” Draco added. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it softly. “Whatever it is, whatever the outcome of the spell, I need you to know that I’m going to be there for you every step of the way. Until the end. For the rest of your life. Or mine.”

Astoria gawked at him, unsure of whether she understood him correctly.

“Draco,” she asked carefully, “is that… are you proposing what I think you’re proposing?”

“I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but it’s long enough for me to know that I’m never going to love anyone the way I love you. Astoria, you are the first woman I ever loved and you will be the last.”

She opened her mouth, still lost for words. That was the last thing she had expected to hear right now.

“And yes, that was a marriage proposal,” Draco added.

Not knowing what else to do, Astoria burst into laughter. She didn’t know what to say, not while her stomach was clenched in fear and her heart was skipping beats in joy. “Depending on the outcome of the spell, you might be stuck with me for a very long time,” she joked.

“That is a risk I’m willing to take,” he replied in all seriousness. “I just want you in my life. And I needed you to know that.”

Astoria nodded slowly and even though her heart had known for a while what her answer to that question was going to be, the words came out much later. “In that case, I guess it’s a yes.”

This time, it was Draco’s turn to lean forward and place a kiss on her mouth, however brief it was. When their lips parted, both their eyes fell on the little slip of paper in his hands.

“It has to be cast by someone else,” Astoria explained. She took a deep, stuttering breath, and she knew that it was now or never. If she didn’t do it now, she would never find the courage again. “Do it.”

Draco raised his eyebrows at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she blurted out immediately, not feeling very sure at all. “If I’m cursed, there will be a purple aura appearing around me. If I’m not, the aura will be green.”

He nodded and reached for the wand from his bedside table. Yet before he spoke the words, he looked at Astoria one last time.

“Last chance,” he said, “once you know, you can’t un-know it.”

“I also can’t live my life in peace not knowing,” she argued nervously, hoping that he would finally do it.

What Astoria wanted above all else was for it to be over.

Slowly, Draco raised his wand and read the words from the paper. As soon as the spell was starting to take effect, Astoria felt a strange tingling sensation crawl over her body, yet she resisted the urge to look. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on Draco.

He seemed nervous, too, at first, yet the expression on his face changed and Astoria knew it in her bones, in the tight knot in her stomach, she recognised the look of a broken heart in his eyes even before she lowered her gaze and saw the purple glow around her hands.


	41. Chapter 41

As if by instinct, Draco knew that she was going to Disapparate even before Astoria had time to reach for her wand. He reached out and held on to her the moment she vanished and by magic, she hauled them across the island until his body slammed down on the cold, wet grass.

Draco barely had time to look around and realise that they had landed somewhere by the coast when Astoria fell down on her knees right next to him and uttered a soul-shattering, earth-shaking scream. The sound she made was a whole kind of magic on its own and it reached deep and shook Draco to the core. As she screamed and wailed into the night, Draco thought that the breath was being knocked out of him. Almost like a banshee, her scream penetrated every particle and before Draco knew what was happening, a cold, wet gale whipped his face and icy rain started to pelt down on his shoulders.

It was Astoria. Astoria’s distress was causing it.

He didn’t know exactly what her curse meant, but he knew that he was going to be there for her, no matter what. Whether it meant she had to die next year or in ten years or never, Draco had made a promise and he wouldn’t back out of it. For the first time in his life, he had found something that mattered and he was going to fight for it.

Fighting against the storm and the rain, Draco rose to his feet and approached her. Once he had reached Astoria, Draco went back down to kneel right next to her, wrapping his arm around her body. She let out another gut-wrenching sob.

“He was right!” she wailed against the wind.

Draco didn’t even have time to ask who she was talking about when she continued through stifled sobs.

“Your father was right. I _am_ afraid!” she admitted under tears.

Still completely bewildered, Draco raised his eyebrows at her, ignoring the rain that was splashing into his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he yelled over the raging storm.

When Astoria turned her head and looked straight at him, she uttered another sob, but the gale blew a little less harshly and the rain seemed to slow down. “Your father said that everyone is afraid of something,” she admitted, her voice raging with despair. “He was right. I don’t want to die. I don’t… I… I had so many plans. Things I wanted to do, to achieve, I wanted to do some good in the world! I can’t die when I’ve only just started to live!”

Draco saw it in her eyes, the fear, the terror, the idea of missed chances and opportunities that never were and he decided to put an end to it right now. He couldn’t take away her fear because, Merlin knew, he had plenty of that in him, as well. But she had done so much for him, helped him find a little bravery in himself when he thought there was none. Draco was going to give it all back.

He reached out and placed his hands firmly on her arms. The fabric of her cloak was wet from the rain beneath his fingers.

“You can still do all of that,” Draco told her determinedly. “You’re still Astoria. No curse can take that away from you. And the Astoria I know is brave, she is scared and brave at the same time! Those things you wanted to do? We can do them together! Right now, if you like. You want to see the world? Well, I’ve got my wand right here and we can go wherever we like! You want to keep working as a healer? That’s fine, I’m sure St. Mungo’s will take you back in a heartbeat! You want to move to a secluded island and never see another person again? I’ll come with you! I don’t care if we have a year or ten years or twenty because I know that we can make them the best!”

The rain stopped abruptly and the storm around them receded to a soft wind, hardly strong enough to lift a strand of wet hair from her head.

“I wasted so many years of my life,” Draco went on, “and I’m tired of it. Let’s do it together. Let’s _live_ together.”

From one moment to the next, Astoria flung her arms around him in a hug that threatened to crush his ribs. When she began to sob again, Draco closed his arms around her in return. It no longer mattered that he wasn’t nearly good enough for her, it no longer mattered that their families disapproved. The only thing that mattered now was what Astoria wanted, what _he_ wanted. If she truly wanted to be with him forever, he would give her everything and more. He would give her all the love and comfort he had to offer.

Quietly, carefully, Draco reached for his wand and with a gentle flick, he Apparated them back into his flat. Astoria didn’t even seem to notice the sudden warmth that engulfed them. He dried them both off using a spell and guided her towards her bed. There, he placed his arms around her small, soft body and allowed her to cry for as long as she liked.

* * *

The low winter sun shone lazily through the windows, filling the room with a gentle, cool light. Astoria was already awake but pretending not to be because she refused to open her eyes. Meanwhile, Draco had turned his body towards her, his eyes set on the soft features of her face. Even - or especially - now, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. When they had first met, Draco wouldn’t have believed that the sight of her face could cause him so much joy and so much heartbreak at the same time. It seemed a little cruel that he had only just found her and that, eventually, she was going to be ripped away from him, but if he considered it a cruelty towards him, how much crueller was it for her?

No matter what happened, no matter how many obstacles he found ahead of them, Draco vowed to appreciate every single moment with her.

With a careful hand, he reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear that had fallen into her face. Last night’s rain had wreaked havoc on her hair and her curls stood up in all directions in the most wonderful, chaotic mess he could imagine. He loved it.

“Why are you chuckling?” Astoria mumbled. It was the first thing she had said since last night.

“No reason,” Draco replied with a smile. “I just thought that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Exploded hair. Puffy eyes. Make-up smudged like a raccoon. Gorgeous. I don’t ever want to wake up and not see that.”

At last, Astoria’s eyes flung open. She blinked a couple of times, but after seeing the expression on his face she finally smiled back at him.

“How are you feeling?” he wanted to know.

There was an audible sigh and the happy, carefree expression vanished from her features. “Better than last night,” she admitted. “I don’t… it doesn’t quite feel real, you know?”

When she spotted the expression on his face, Astoria squinted her eyes at him. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m not dead yet.”

“I know,” Draco replied.

“You’re still looking that way,” she said and then, without a warning, she reached up and covered his eyes with her hands, chuckling. “Stop it!”

Draco couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, I’ll stop!”

As she lowered her hand, he noticed that the twinkling had returned to her eyes, that light he had come to love and appreciate so much, not as bright as before, but far from extinguished.

“You were right.” Her voice was sounded determined. “I’m still Astoria and I’m not going to let that stupid curse defeat me before my time is up. I mean, my grandmother lived up to her 40s and healing methods have improved since then. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, I’m not promising that I won’t ever scream at the whole world again because, out of every witch on earth, the curse had to hit me. I’m angry. I’m scared. But right now, I just want to live. I want to _see_ things, _enjoy_ things, _try_ things.”

“What _things_?” Draco wanted to know.

Astoria moved forward and placed a soft, gentle kiss on his mouth, nipping at his lower lip right before she pulled away again. “Chips for breakfast,” she replied.

Draco cocked his eyebrows at her. “Are you serious?”

Astoria nodded.

“Dibly!” Draco called out and the house-elf appeared with a loud _plop_.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting on Draco’s bed, drinking tea and eating the chips the house-elf had procured for them. Draco felt relieved that Astoria seemed to be doing a little better even though he didn’t have a clue what the future might bring. They just had to take it one step at a time and make the best of it.

“So,” Draco began carefully, stuffing another chip into his mouth. He’d never really considered having such a thing for breakfast, but he was prepared to try a lot of new things if it meant making Astoria happy. “Any idea what you’d like to do next? I mean, are you planning on going back to work?”

Astoria looked up from her plate and regarded him for a while, considering her options. “Actually, I think I’d like to see a few places,” she said. “I’ve never actually been outside of the country much. It would be interesting to see what French wizards are like. Or Japanese wizards. Is there a school for magic in Japan?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. We could find out.”

“Do you think people use different spells in Brazil than they do in Russia?”

At that, he finally burst into laughter. Yes, that was indeed the Astoria he knew and loved, so full of life and curiosity. Draco looked at her for a long moment, smiling. “My proposal last night was serious. It still is. Will you be my wife?”

Astoria beamed back at him. “Yes,” she replied earnestly. “But can we do that after we’ve travelled the world? Maybe you’ll be sick of me after that.”

In a quick gesture, Draco reached out and pulled Astoria down onto the mattress with him, making her laugh. “I highly doubt that.”


	42. Chapter 42

**6 Months Later**

Astoria heard Draco breathe in deeply as they stood in front of the little cottage that was her home but which she hadn’t seen in months. After his proposal and finding out about her curse, they hadn’t actually wasted a lot of time. She had told her family, of course, but Astoria hadn’t really given them time to process the reality of what was eventually going to happen to her before she and Draco had gone off to travel the world, just like they had said they would. For six long, exciting months, they had barely stopped to breathe, giving Astoria the time she needed to come to terms with everything she had learned - and then to forget it about it altogether. The last six months were something Astoria was ready to describe as the best time of her life. She had seen the marvellous landscapes of places she had only ever read about, she had talked to people she had never thought she would meet, she had learned a few new spells from various countries all over the world, but as their families at home were becoming more and more impatient, they had decided to finally come back and settle down. And tell their families of a development which they had kept secret up until now. Once again, Astoria heard Draco take a deep breath.

“Will you stop with the nervous breathing?” she asked. “I’m pretty sure our families already know what’s up. We’ve sent them pictures.”

“Seeing pictures of us is not the same as looking your father in the eye and telling him I proposed to you without his permission,” Draco argued. “He’s going to kill me. You’re going to be a widow before we’re even married.”

Astoria snorted. “He won’t kill you,” she said, scoffing. “He might punch you. Or maim you. But he won’t kill you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Astoria noticed Draco glare at her, but she ignored it and finally rang the doorbell.

Her father, already expecting them after their owl, threw the door wide open in a matter of seconds and flung his arms around her in an excited greeting. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed heartily.

Behind his back, Draco gestured towards Astoria to hide her engagement ring. She rolled her eyes and ignored his cowardice.

“It’s so good to see you, too,” she replied with a broad smile. Astoria winked at Draco and then decided to get it over with as soon as possible. “Oh, and before Draco wets his pants, we’d like you to know that we’re getting married.”

Draco’s mouth fell open, but Astoria continued to ignore him when her father released her from the embrace to look at his daughter, then towards her husband-to-be and then back towards Astoria.

“You’re joking?” he asked.

In response, Astoria raised her hand to show off the ring they had picked together in Barcelona. For a moment, her father seemed actually lost for words and it dawned on Astoria, that maybe, Draco was right after all. Maybe, her father would be angry that he hadn’t talked to him before.

“You really forgot all about the talk we had a couple of months ago where I said you weren’t good enough for my daughter?” her father asked, glowering towards him.

Draco swallowed visibly.

“Dad,” Astoria said and gently placed her hand on his arm, “if it was up to you, no one would be good enough for me.”

Her father hesitated for a while longer, his eyes fixed dangerously long on Draco. Then, eventually, he shrugged. “That is true,” he admitted, but he still raised a finger towards Draco in warning. “But if you hurt her, I will break every single bone on your body, by magic or by hand. Understood?”

He nodded.

“Alright, come inside, you two.”

While Draco tried to make a good impression on her parents by helping in the kitchen, Astoria wandered through the house after saying hello to her mother, hoping to find the one family member she _hadn’t_ seen yet. She and her sister hadn’t spoken in six months, they hadn’t even exchanged as much as a letter or a postcard. While Astoria had sent an owl from every single country they had visited, she had only ever addressed it to her parents, not saying a single word to Daphne. Right after breaking the news of the blood curse to her parents and sister, that was all they had talked about, but in her head, there was one conversation she had had with her sister that wasn’t quite finished yet. The conversation about Daphne’s involvement with the so-called _Cult of Darkness_.

She found her sister in the family’s library, sitting near the window with a book in her hand. There was no way she could have missed the commotion in the kitchen, so the only explanation Astoria had was that Daphne was hiding from her on purpose.

“You didn’t come to say hello,” Astoria remarked to announce herself as she moved closer to her sister’s chair. Without waiting for an invitation, she sat down next to her.

Her sister looked up, her expression and tone impassive. “You didn’t send a letter,” she replied. Eventually, her mask crumbled and she watched her sister’s shoulders sink. “I thought you’d still be mad about… well, you know.”

Astoria nodded. “I was,” she admitted.

Daphne bit down on her lip. She had always struggled with apologies ever since she was a child. “I’m sorry about what happened on New Year’s Eve,” she said. “I know I said we didn’t do anything wrong, but that’s not true. I spoke to Nott before he fled the country and he admitted that he’d been building Time-Turners for people. That’s when I decided those people weren’t so harmless after all. I never saw any of them again after that and I’m not going to.”

“Nott fled the country?” Astoria demanded to know.

Suddenly, there was a mischievous grin on Daphne’s face, one that Astoria knew all too well. “Let’s just say _someone_ tipped off an Auror about where he hides his most precious artefacts.”

At last, Astoria couldn’t help but smile as well. Daphne might have messed up in the past, but just like Draco, she did have her heart in the right place.

“What you told us before you left,” her sister said, her voice now serious again, “that put some things into perspective for me. Family’s important. And when someone hurts my family, I can’t sit back and watch them hurt more people.”

Still smiling, Astoria nodded. Even though they hadn’t always gotten along, she was still grateful to have her as a sister. And maybe, the most recent development, however bad it was, could help strengthen their bond, after all.

* * *

Draco stared up at Malfoy Manor that towered over them like a behemoth, reminding him once again of all the reasons he was glad that he no longer lived in it. The tall, dark walls seemed cold from the outside as well as the inside.

“Do you think your parents are going to make us live here?” Astoria asked. She had followed his gaze and was staring up, probably wondering whether the house was haunted.

“Merlin, I hope not,” Draco replied and used the knocker to announce their arrival. During their travels, he had sent the occasional owl to his mother and before they had left, he had also informed her of Astoria’s curse, but he hadn’t actually _talked_ to his parents in six months. Even though he had forgiven his father for everything, he still felt a little nervous about the impending reunion.

It was Dibly who opened the door to them and Draco felt a surprising rush of joy upon seeing the helpful servant again. Yet, to his great surprise, the elf was no longer wearing the usual rag which was common for elves. Instead, Dibly wore _a dress_.

“Welcome home, sir!” Dibly greeted him excitedly.

“Dibly, you’re wearing clothes!” It was Astoria who pointed it out first, grinning broadly at the small elf.

She beamed so widely her mouth almost touched her ears. “Mrs Malfoy freed Dibly!” she announced. “She asked Dibly whether she would like to remain in the family’s service or whether she would like to be freed! Dibly chose freedom!”

It was clear that the elf was very happy with her choice. However, one rather important question remained.

“Then what are you still doing here?” Draco wanted to know.

“Dibly is getting _paid_ for her service, sir! Mrs Malfoy made a lot of changes inside the house. Come in and see!”

Draco and Astoria exchanged a few glances, but he knew that he wasn’t going to find the answers in her eyes, so he followed Dibly’s invitation and stepped inside his old family home.

Even in the entrance hall, Draco could see the difference. It seemed that in his absence, his mother had decided to renovate and redecorate the entire house. Everything seemed a little brighter, from the expensive carpets to the colour of the walls and even some of the old paintings had been exchanged for newer art. He wondered instantly whether his father had kept his promise and the change had also extended to the old, forbidden library that they had vowed to get rid of.

When his mother entered the room, Draco soon realised that the house wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Smiling brightly at them, Draco thought that his mother looked younger, happier, more vibrant than she had before his departure as she walked up to greet him and Astoria with a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m so glad you could make it to dinner,” she announced happily. “I’m sure you must be exhausted after all that travelling.”

“Uh, yes,” Draco spluttered in response, still unsure where to look first. The house had changed so much that he needed a moment to orientate himself, but it had definitely changed for the better. Then, he could no longer bear it. He just had to ask. “What happened here?”

His mother shrugged and smiled. “Some long-overdue renovations,” she replied happily. “Now, the table is already set. I’m sure you must be hungry.”

Seeing as they had only just had tea with Astoria’s family, it wasn’t entirely true, but neither Draco nor Astoria thought it wise to disrupt his mother’s enthusiasm. As they stepped into the dining room, however, a further surprise was already waiting for them there in the shape of his father. Lucius Malfoy, the same man who had always needed to be asked to join them for dinner several times, was already waiting for them.

When they entered the room, Draco’s father rose to his feet to greet them. “Uh, welcome back,” he said, nodding towards Draco first and then towards Astoria. “I hope you had a nice trip.”

Frowning, Draco leaned towards his mother to whisper into her ear. He didn’t trust this scenario at all. “Did you put Father under the Imperius Curse?” he asked in a hushed voice.

Narcissa, however, laughed. When she replied, her voice remained at a normal volume so the entire room could hear. “Don’t be silly, dear. I don’t need to put my husband under the Imperius Curse. We both decided that it was better for both of us to let me make the decisions from now on.”

Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat and nodded, not entirely at ease with his new, demoted position in the family hierarchy. Draco, however, couldn’t help but agree with his mother. If his father had proven anything over the last two decades, it was that his decisions weren’t always in their family’s best interest. He also understood now how his mother had thrived in her role as the head of the family over the last few months.

Even though he had dreaded joining his family for dinner, the meal itself turned out to be quite pleasant, after all. Draco and Astoria told stories about their travels while his mother listened attentively. Even his father showed some interest in the new spells they had learned in different countries.

Yet when Dibly arrived with the dessert and Astoria accepted the bowl, his mother’s gaze fell on something that had gone unnoticed before. The ring on her finger.

“Draco,” she said, her voice betraying her amusement, “is there something you would like to tell us?”

He cleared his throat and set his spoon aside to take Astoria’s hand. “As a matter of fact, there is,” he replied. A smile spread across his face even though he had tried to hide it. “Astoria and I are getting married.”

His mother’s lips formed a wide, bright smile as she rose to her feet. For a moment, Draco felt a little taken aback, unsure of what was going to happen, but as his mother approached Astoria for a hug, he leaned back and watched while Narcissa welcomed wife-to-be into the family. However, his gaze also shifted towards his father and Lucius Malfoy didn’t look nearly as pleased as his mother. While Draco was still wondering whether he would say something, he suddenly felt his mother’s arms around his own neck.

“This is wonderful news,” Narcissa exclaimed, hugging Draco tightly, “though not entirely unsuspected.”

“It’s not?” Draco asked while his mother sat back down in her chair. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, trying his best to ignore his father’s angry stare.

Narcissa was still smiling. “Of course not. To be entirely honest, when you two vanished on your trip around the world, I was almost afraid you had eloped.”

Draco and Astoria exchanged a quick glance. There was a moment when they _had_ considered eloping, but seeing his mother’s excitement told him that it was something he should better not mention. Instead, he reached for Astoria’s hand underneath the table and smiled back at his mother.

“We want our families to share that special day with us.” It was Astoria who spoke, smiling at his mother, too.

“Of course,” Narcissa replied happily. “But since I was already suspecting something like that, I took the liberty of preparing a little present for you. Consider it our wedding present.”

Astoria’s hand twitched between his fingers and she glanced at Draco. In response, he gave a soft shrug. Even he had no idea what exactly his mother had planned.

“I know how much you like that flat in Diagon Alley and it really is a pretty, little place,” his mother began. “But it’s a bachelor pad and hardly suitable for two people to live in permanently. So, while we were renovating the manor, I took the liberty of renovating the unused wing as well.”

Draco opened his mouth, to respond, but his mother wasn’t quite done yet.

“I haven’t added any furniture yet because I thought, if you want to move in, you’d like to pick it yourself,” she said. “But that is entirely your choice. You can stay at your flat in Diagon Alley or you could move back home, have the entire wing to yourself.”

“Mother-”

Narcissa raised her hand and cut him off once more. “I don’t want an answer now. Think about it, talk it through. Whatever your decision, we will accept it.”

Draco felt Astoria squeeze his hand before she spoke. “Thank you so much,” she replied earnestly. “That is a wonderful gesture and we will discuss it.”

It seemed that they had almost forgotten about Lucius Malfoy’s presence until he suddenly cleared his throat. From one moment to the next, all eyes were on Draco’s father who looked more uncomfortable than ever. It was painfully obvious he had waited a long time to finally get a word in.

“And you are sure about this… _wedding_?” his father asked, spitting the word out as if the mere thought of it disgusted him.

Draco had never assumed that his father would take the news with a smile or that he would host a party in their honour. No, Lucius Malfoy had made it very clear just what he thought about Astoria as Draco’s future wife, so the fact that he had waited so long to say anything was what surprised Draco most.

“Yes,” he hissed in response, “we are very sure about that. Astoria and I are getting married.”

“Without my consent?”

Draco snorted. “Honestly? You can take your consent and shove it-”

“Draco,” his mother interrupted, her voice even and polite, “perhaps your father would like to retreat to his office while we all have a look at the renovated wing and discuss the details of your wedding?”

* * *

Diagon Alley was quiet save for a few witches and witches making their way home or to the pub for an evening drink. Astoria hooked her arm into Draco’s and breathed in the warm summer air, for a moment just enjoying walking down the street with him. They hadn’t been back to Draco’s flat since their return, wanting to say hello to their families first, and by now, she was craving the comfort of a familiar bed, but not enough to abandon their evening walk.

Astoria felt strangely at peace now after having delivered the news to their families and strangely hopeful regarding her future with Draco. During the last six months, they had had good and bad days. On some days, they thought that nothing and no one would ever be able to ruin their happiness. Then, on others, Astoria had felt the weight of her curse drag her down, the impending end seeming so incredibly close that she could have sworn she was able to reach out and grab it. Other times, Draco had woken up screaming, haunted by the memories of Voldemort or the war, of what he had done. But each time, they had found comfort in each other and the happiness had returned eventually.

Astoria freed her arm and instead, reached for Draco’s hand, squeezing it softly at which he turned his head and smiled at her. Sometimes, it felt like they were made for each other, like they had been destined to meet. When she was with Draco, Astoria felt like she could conquer it all and he had confessed to feeling the same about her. It stung deep inside her heart to think that she wouldn’t be there to grow old with him, that, at some point, he would have to go on without her, but Astoria wasn’t going to let that drag her down. Not while she had still so much love and happiness to give.

“We should tell Blaise,” Astoria noted after a while. “He’ll be happy for us, I think.”

Draco laughed. “We better tell him. I don’t really have another candidate for a best man.”

Astoria shrugged. “I don’t know. You and Harry Potter seemed quite civil the last time you spoke.”

In response, her future husband glowered at her. She laughed at him, but somehow, she had a feeling. A feeling that Draco’s and Harry’s paths were done crossing and she wondered whether she would be around to witness them becoming friends after all. Draco could certainly do with a few more of those.

“Your father didn’t seem entirely happy though,” she remarked eventually, unable to not mention the subject. Even though he hadn’t said it outright, Astoria knew that Lucius Malfoy had hated her ever since the hospital incident.

At that, Draco rolled his eyes. “My father will do anything in his power to stop the wedding,” he said, his voice suddenly sullen and grave. Then, the determination was back. “I won’t let him. This time, I won’t let him ruin my life.”

“If it’s any consolation, I do think you mother will back you up on that,” she replied, chuckling. “She seemed very excited about the wedding. I think she was also hoping that we would say yes to moving in.”

Draco looked at her as if searching her face for an answer. In fact, Astoria had been thinking about the matter since she had first stepped into the newly renovated wing of Malfoy Manor. The former darkness and eerie aura had been wiped from the walls by Narcissa’s hand and even though she couldn’t have imagined it previously, Astoria now thought that maybe, moving in with Draco’s mother wouldn’t be the worst choice. His father, however, was another matter.

“She was right, you know?” Astoria said. “Your place really is a bit small for the two of us.”

In response, Draco sighed, but it sounded more like relief than annoyance. “Let’s give my father some more time to get used to the idea, okay? Besides, I would like a few more months of independence.”

Smiling, Astoria nodded and leaned against his shoulder as they walked, feeling glad that they seemed to be on the same page about everything. Well, _almost_ everything, but something told Astoria that he might warm up on the idea of children eventually when a little more time had passed. There was still time and they were going to use it as best as they could.

“I love you, you know?” Draco said right as they had reached their doorstep.

Astoria looked up at him and smiled. He was no longer the spoiled boy she had seen in the Slytherin common room. He was also no longer the broken young man she had met at St. Mungo’s. He was only Draco, the man she had come to love with all her heart.

“I love you, too,” she replied.

Carefully, as if his touch could break her, Draco cupped her cheeks into his palms and pulled her up to meet his lips in a kiss. The world started to spin around her and Astoria felt the spell tug at her belly as Draco Apparated them both into their living room.

“ _Welcome home!_ ”

Their lips parted and both Draco and Astoria spun around to see where the greeting had come from, only to be greeted by their biggest surprise yet. When they had assumed the flat would be empty, they had been greatly mistaken, because someone had come to greet them. It wasn’t just Blaise Zabini or Pansy Parkinson, Astoria also spotted her sister and a few of her former school friends that had come to welcome them back by throwing them a little party.

“Your mother told us you’d be coming back today,” Blaise announced, giving Draco’s shoulder a friendly slap. Draco only stared at him in confusion. “And Daphne said you may have something to celebrate.”

“As a matter of fact, we do,” Astoria replied, grinning ear to ear as she hugged the friends she hadn’t actually seen in years.

Finally, the surprise lifted and Draco began to smile, as well. It was a careful, shy smile, one that told Astoria had hadn’t expected any of that. He hadn’t expected to have any friends at all. Once more, she reached for his hand and smiled along with him. After surviving a terrible war, after searching for years, it seemed that they had both finally found their place in the world. The darkness was a thing of the past. Now came the time for happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge, massive THANK YOU to everyone who read and commented on this fic! I love you all! I'm so glad you enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Speaking of writing, however... While this particular fic is finished, I may have started to work on a little sequel because I'm terrible at saying goodbye to characters. If that fails, I have 3 more ideas for fics that feature Draco, so keep an eye out ;)


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